#i need to get everything in a more working order

[wearylaurels]

No because there’s something to be said about President Snow’s depiction in the original trilogy as this cunning, calculating and unflappable dictator, only for the curtain to be pulled back to reveal him as an extremely petty man who can’t take a single potshot to his ego. He really is just an extremely petty, extremely insecure, extremely vindictive man whose entire life has literally been keeping up the illusion of power and prestige for something that has been crumbling for ages. Who believes he’s entitled to everything he wants and rages when he’s denied it. Who takes every insult, every threat to his and the Capitol’s perceived greatness and security, intentional or no, and takes it to the furthest possible lengths in order to get back at them. Katniss sees him as intimidating and threatening because that’s the propaganda she’s been fed all her life, but in reality? Coriolanus Snow is *pathetic*. He’s a powerful man with zero morals or empathy, yes, but more than that? He’s *pathetic.*

I know it’s a running joke that Snow’s a grown man beefing with a seventeen year old and his ex of sixty plus years that he dated for three months, but genuinely. *Genuinely.* This man holds on to even the slightest insult, because he can’t take the idea of something acting or existing outside his perception of the world, and he *despises* when something shatters the perception he has of himself. *That’s* why he hates Lucy Gray so much—because she had the gall to force him to see a District girl as desirable and—heaven forbid—almost human. Because she was able to trick him and catch him off guard. Because she had the *audacity* to disappear, leaving him with the pit in his stomach of never, *never* knowing what happened to her. Because Snow *needs* control, he *needs* things to only exist and work a certain way, and that’s what made totalitarianism so appealing to him. It ensures he has the power he’s been denied all his life, yes, but more than that it allows him to ensure that the world—or at least, Panem—works the way he *thinks* it should work. The Capitol are elites who never question their status and privilege, who never need to live in anything less than luxury (the way he feels he should have). The Districts are barbaric lower class citizens who are only good for labor and entertainment. The regime is all-pervasive and all-powerful. He is the Greatest Man That Ever Lived. The Number One Peacekeeper even. Snow lands on top.

And the Games. The Games are supposes to be a dehumanizing reminder of the Districts’ savagery. That, left to their own devices, humans are selfish and violent and only out for themselves. Like Snow is. Because why would anyone ever be *not* like Snow? He literally calls himself “the best humanity has to offer.” So everyone else is either like him or worse. His experience and thoughts are the default, they are *law.* And if they aren’t? Shut up, yes they are. This is part of why he has Haymitch’s games edited so heavily, to destroy the idea that tributes would ever unite together as anything other than a pack of predators. This is why he has the tenth Games completely scrubbed from existence—so that there will be no memory of the year a “savage” from twelve survived because she won a Capitol boy’s affections. This is why he has the Games so thoroughly processed and manufactured overall—so that the Capitol citizens get their entertainment, yes, but also so that any memory of a Games that didn’t play out the way *he wants*, any example of a Games that defies *his* will, is forgotten. Seneca playing so hard into the “star-crossed lovers” bit is threatening not just because it highlighted how two kids from the poorest district were able to break the rules, but because it focused on a connection that breaks with Gaul’s teaching—that “humanity undressed” is nothing but cruelty and self-preservation.

Love shouldn’t be able to blossom in an arena. And as Snow said, he sees the whole world as an arena. Which is why he tries so hard to get into Haymitch’s head about Lenore Dove, why he hijacks Peeta to hate not the rebellion, not the districts, but *Katniss specifically.* Because as far as he’s concerned, “love” is another word for the possessiveness and obsession he felt towards Lucy Gray. And he *hates* the idea that any other version of love, any kind of love that’s genuine and equal and mutual, can exist. So he projects his feelings for Lucy Gray onto Haymitch and Lenore Dove, why he eventually has Lenore Dove killed with his signature poison when Haymitch survives the Games, when he had his mother and Sid burned alive. Why he has Peeta’s memories of Katniss be the ones targeted when he’s being hijacked. Because Haymitch and Peeta, unlike him, *loved* their girls. Truly loved, the same way Lenore Dove and Katniss love them. The way Lucy Gray most likely loved Snow, and he *can’t stand to let that love exist.* Because just by existing, they defy defies the way he sees love—as something dangerous that will inevitably leave you vulnerable to attack and betrayal.

In Snow’s mind, he’s running the world the way it’s meant to be run. The *natural* way it should be run. The way he sees the world is the *natural* way the world works. And yet, the fact that this world he runs is so heavily manufactured, that he has to go to such lengths to affirm his beliefs and keep this structure strong, is proof alone that there is nothing natural about it. And deep down, I like to think Snow knows that. At least, he’s aware of it, and he refuses to acknowledge it. Which is why he goes to such extremes whenever someone defies him—whether it be by plotting a rebellion, to eating a handful of berries, to finding friends in a death match, to even just being in love. He can’t tolerate the idea of something, anything, not going the way he thinks it should.

He’s your standard dictator, really—a small, small man with far, far too much power, trying with all his might to make himself look big.

Or something man idk I’m just yapping

The beef between Haymitch and Snow is so funny. The way Haymitch drank an entire pitcher of milk just so Snow wouldn't get any, so Snow kept supplying him milk throughout his entire stay in the Capitol after his victory... bro what are you doing you're the president of Panem😭

[satellite-evans]

lovesick

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando takes care of you when you're sick <3

Word count: 1.1k+ ( something cute and sweet)

Warnings: nothing but tooth aching fluff

A/N:

I have noticed that I always write how reader takes care of people so I decided to do the oppossite, hope you guys will like it!

Also, I think I am shadowbanned, so if you guys could please send me feedback and show some support, that would be really helpful and would mean so much to me xx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

You were curled up in bed, cocooned in a mountain of blankets, sniffling miserably as the sound of rain tapped against the window. Your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, your throat burned, and every muscle in your body ached. Being sick was never fun, but it was even worse when Lando was supposed to be home for the weekend, and all your plans had gone out the window.

Lando peeked his head into the bedroom, a small frown on his face as he took in the sight of you buried under the covers.

“How’s my patient doing?” he asked gently, stepping into the room with a tray in his hands.

You eyed the tray warily, voice hoarse as you spoke. “Please tell me you didn’t make that.”

Lando scoffed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as he set the tray down on the nightstand. “Wow, the lack of faith in me is honestly offensive.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Lando.”

He let out a sheepish chuckle. “Alright, alright. No, I didn’t make it. I have no intention of killing you with my cooking.”

You sighed in relief. “Smart choice.”

“Hey, I could’ve at least tried.”

“Exactly. And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Lando let out a playful huff as he settled onto the edge of the bed. “Not even a little credit?”

You gave him a weak smile. “Fine. Thank you for your excellent decision-making skills in ordering food instead of poisoning me.”

“Much better,” he said smugly, grabbing the spoon and stirring the soup. “Now, Nurse Norris is here to make sure you eat, drink, and get back to being my energetic, non-sick girlfriend.”

You chuckled weakly, your throat scratchy from the effort. “Nurse Norris?”

“Yep. On call 24/7,” he said with a wink. “Now, open up.”

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, letting him feed you a spoonful of warm broth. The heat was soothing against your sore throat, and you sighed contentedly.

“See?” he said smugly. “Taking care of you isn’t so bad, right?”

“I guess,” you admitted, swallowing another bite. “But if you start wearing a nurse’s outfit, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Lando gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me? I would rock that look.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t doubt that, honestly.”

He grinned, brushing a few strands of hair from your forehead. His touch was warm against your clammy skin, and you instinctively leaned into it. His expression softened. “You’re burning up,” he murmured, concern flashing in his blue eyes. “Did you take any medicine?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but it hasn’t really kicked in yet.”

Lando hummed thoughtfully before tucking the blankets around you a little tighter. “Alright, let’s get some more food in you, then. Maybe it’ll help.”

You stared at the bowl of soup he handed you, not feeling hungry but knowing you needed to eat. You took a small spoonful, but your mind kept drifting back to how everything had changed.

“This was supposed to be our weekend,” you murmured, your voice hoarse as you glanced up at him, a sad smile on your face. “I was so excited for it.”

Lando frowned, his brow furrowing as he noticed the change in your tone. He gently placed the spoon back into the bowl, his focus now entirely on you. “Hey, I know. I was looking forward to it too.”

“I know,” you said, your voice quieter. “It was the first time in so long we had the weekend off together. I planned everything—movie nights, dinner, maybe even a little walk in the park. All of it. And now… I’m stuck in bed, and you’re taking care of me.”

Lando’s expression softened with empathy as he sat down next to you, brushing his hand over your hair. “You didn’t plan this, babe. You didn’t want to get sick.”

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes closing as you leaned into his touch. “I know, but it just feels like bad timing. I’ve missed you so much, Lando. The last few weeks have been crazy, and I was really looking forward to this. Just us. And now... I’m ruining it.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” he said firmly, his voice gentle but insistent. “You’re sick. It happens. And you know what? We’ll make up for it. I promise. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

You opened your eyes to meet his gaze, seeing nothing but care and reassurance in his blue eyes. He smiled softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “Plus, this way, I get to take care of you. That’s better than any of the other plans anyway.”

You sniffed, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “I just wanted to make the most of it. We don’t always get this much time together.”

“I know, I know,” Lando said, his thumb gently rubbing over the back of your hand. “I hate that this is happening when we had so many things we wanted to do. But we’ll have other weekends, I promise. And we’ll make them just as special.”

A tear slipped from the corner of your eye, and you quickly wiped it away, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m being dramatic.”

Lando shook his head, his voice soft as he spoke. “No, it’s okay. It’s okay to feel disappointed. But you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here. And we’ll get through this weekend together, even if it’s not what we planned.”

You let out a small laugh, though it was tinged with sadness. “I guess this weekend is just me, you, and a mountain of blankets.”

“Exactly,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. “And some soup, and tea, and maybe some Netflix marathons.”

“Even though you hate Netflix?” You asked with a smirk.

“Even though I hate Netflix.”

You smiled at that, grateful for his efforts to make you feel better. “You really do know how to make the best of things, don’t you?”

Lando grinned, his eyes brightening. “What can I say? I’m an expert at turning around bad situations. And right now, all I care about is making sure you feel better.”

You leaned back into the pillows, your heart swelling with affection as he continued to fuss over you, making sure you were comfortable. Even though things hadn’t gone as planned, having Lando by your side, taking care of you, was all you really needed.

“Alright,” he said, adjusting the blankets around you again. “Let’s get some rest. I’ll stay right here and keep you company. We’ll make the best of this weekend, even if it’s just us hanging out in bed.”

You gave him a small, grateful smile, the sadness in your heart slowly melting away as you realized that even though things hadn’t gone according to plan, you still had each other. “Thanks, Lando. Really.”

He kissed your forehead softly, his voice low and sincere. “Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.”

[writing-girlie]

Push & Pull

Pairing: Intern!Reader x Mentor!Michael Robinavitch

Blurb: The young intern is drawn to her mentor, as they work together in The Pitt but when feeling start to form what started as admiration turns into quiet, unresolved tension.

WC: 2.6k

Part 2 is here

Note: I don't really know if I like this but I spent to long trying to put it together so have it. I could write a part 2 with a resolution and some spice if it's wanted.

The Pitt never slowed down. The wailing ambulance sirens and the hum of chatter from the waiting room were reminders of the next patient needing help. Machines beeped and voices barked orders, and down one of the halls, a patient screamed - just another night of chaos.

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch practically thrived in it, moving through the madness with a strong sense of calmness. His years of experience made it look effortless—the confidence in his every decision, the lack of hesitation that reassured those around him. In a place where seconds could mean the difference between life and death, he was the kind of doctor people trusted without question.

That is what the interns lacked - experience. They come in wide-eyed and eager to help people, their textbook solutions only getting them so far. Some would crumble under the pressure, others would prove themselves ready. The interns step into the Pitt in crisp scrubs, their gazes flickering between awe and nerves. A quick glance tells Robby everything—most are trying, and failing, to mask their anxiety.

And then, he notices her

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You stood a step away from the rest of the group, taking in everything not with fear but determination, memorising the surrounding area.

Your eyes lock with a ruggedly handsome man—broad shoulders, sharp gaze, exhaustion buried beneath professionalism. You offer a smile, but he doesn’t return it. No flicker of acknowledgment, no warmth. Just a neutral, assessing stare before he looks away.

He walks over to the small group, getting their attention.

“Good Morning, Good Morning. Come on over!” He speaks in a smooth tone with a subtle rasp.

You all step closer and he runs through some key details before sending the group off with himself or the senior residents and of course, your luck lands you with Robby. You follow him promptly into a room. The patient, a teenage boy, his face screwed up with pain, and a soft hold on his ankle. At a quick glance you suspected a sprain - nothing serious.

Robby crouches down, fingers lightly pressing against the swollen area. “What happened?”

“Basketball” the kid grits out “Landed wrong from a jump”

Robby hums, rotating the foot slightly. The boy flinches. “Probably a sprain, maybe a fracture. I’ll order an X-ray”

Then Dana rushes in. “Multiple GSW en route, two minutes out”

Robby immediately stands up and heads for the door, he looks at you.

“You handle this”

“Alone?” The question slipped out, not because you doubted yourself, but because the sudden shift had caught you off guard.

Robby tilts his head, slightly unimpressed. “It’s an ankle, not open heart surgery” and before you had time to answer, he was gone.

You crouch, carefully examining the ankle. Then you press along the leg and the kid growls in pain. There it is. “I’d say it’s a syndesmotic injury.” He looks confused. “Oh, a high ankle sprain. So it’s the above the ankle not beside it.” You tell him a little more before putting in for an x-ray. Once you’ve done that you aid a nurse in another room briefly.

You glance over the patient list when Robby comes up to you. “You figured it out?”

“Syndesmotic injury” you nod. He doesn’t say anything but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Alright, next patient” He looks over the patient list.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The days blur together as the weeks pass, each shift a mix of routine cases and intense moments that seem to stretch on forever. You’ve settled into the rhythm of the hospital, finding your footing in the chaos. Your confidence has grown; you make decisions faster now, with less second-guessing. Robby remains a constant presence, one you can’t seem to escape, and maybe you don’t want to.

At first, it was just respect. Admiration for his skills, his leadership, the way he commands the room without raising his voice. But as time goes by, it’s harder to ignore the small moments, the ones that make your heart skip. The way he stands just a little too close when explaining a procedure, his voice steady but warm. The occasional glance in your direction, like he’s waiting for something from you, and when your hands brush while passing equipment lingers in ways you can’t shake.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Throughout the hospital other staff pick up on the moments and tension too.

Dr. Langdon leaned casually against the counter, eyeing Robby from the corner of his eye as you walked past. He didn’t miss how Robby didn't look away until you were out of sight and neither did Robby.

He quickly averted his eyes, hands gripping his clipboard a little too tightly. He shouldn't do this but every time you smiled, every time you made a decision that impressed him, it got harder to ignore. He shook it off, focusing on the next chart, but the unease in his chest wouldn’t go away.

"You know," Langdon slides up beside him, his voice light but teasing, "for someone who's always so composed, you don't hide it very well."

Robby didn’t even glance at him. "Hide what?"

Langdon smirked, tilting his head. "The way you watch her. The way you get all tense when someone else talks to her. Everyone notices it, It’s almost… endearing.”

Robby scoffed, shaking his head. "You’re imagining things."

"Am I?" Langdon pushed off the counter, crossing his arms. "Because I’ve seen you do it a dozen times now. Hell, I’m starting to think you don’t even realize you’re doing it."

Robby exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "I watch all of you. It’s my job to pay attention."

Langdon snorted. "Right. Because you stare at everyone like that." Robby shot him an unimpressed look. "Fine," Langdon conceded, "let’s say you watch everyone. I still wanna know—what is it about her?"

Robby hesitated, rolling his pen between his fingers. "She works harder than she has to. Not because she’s trying to impress anyone, but because she wants to be better. And she’s stubborn as hell too, but I respect that.” He let out a slow breath. "When I was an intern, I damn near burnt myself out doing the same thing, trying to prove to myself that I could do it all." His voice dipped lower. "I see myself in her."

Langdon hummed, considering that for a moment. Then, he arched his brow. "Don’t think you should be thinking about your interns like that, man."

Robby’s jaw tightened. “That is not what I meant.”

Langdon just grinned. “Yeah, maybe. But you do think about her, don’t you? Pretty, young, interested in you—”

"Don't you have patients to attend to?" His tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the warning in it. Langdon chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright.” He pushed off the counter, still smirking as he walked away. “But just so you know, that wasn’t a no.”

His gaze flickers back to you, now leaning against the nurses station for a moment. If ‘everyone knew’ why not go for it a little.

You barely noticed Robby approach until something cold pressed against your arm. You startled slightly, turning to find him standing closer than expected, holding out a bottle of water.

“Here” he ordered, his voice low, steady.

You took the bottle, fingers brushing in the exchange. “If you wanted me to drink water, you could’ve just asked. Coulda got it myself.”

Robby tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking between your face and the bottle in your hand. “Would you have listened?”

You hummed, twisting off the cap. “We’ll never know now.”

His eyes lingered for a second longer, like he was waiting for something. You took a sip, and only then did he seem satisfied.

Lowering the bottle, you raised an eyebrow. “Have you had any water recently?”

The slight shift in his expression was barely noticeable, “I don’t need you worrying about me,” he said smoothly.

You smirked. “Oh, so you can worry about me, but I can’t return the favor?”

“Just drink the water” He looks down at you.

You tilt your head, giving him a playful grin. “Didn't realise I was one of your patients Dr Robinavitch”

Robby’s lips quirked up in a half-smile, his gaze locking with yours. “Well, maybe not but I'll let you know I have a brilliant patient satisfaction score”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in just slightly. “Is that so?”

Robby chuckled, a low, almost husky sound that made the space between you feel even smaller. “It’s true”

The playful grin stays on your lips. “I’m sure you have your methods. You should be careful though Robby. Someone might mistake that confidence for something else.”

His gaze lingered on your lips “Don’t worry, I’m perfectly aware of what I’m doing” he said, looking back up to your eyes. “and it's only with you”

You tilted your head slightly, the playful grin still tugging at your lips. “Are you trying to impress me?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Is it working?”

You hummed, tapping a finger idly against the bottle. “I don’t know… maybe I need a little more convincing.”

Robby’s smirk deepened, slow and knowing. “Dangerous request.”

You lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug.

His gaze flicked over your face, assessing, considering. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he shook his head. “Drink your water.”

You scoffed, twisting the cap off but not breaking eye contact as you took a slow sip. “Bossy.”

Robby exhaled through his nose, the hint of a smirk still playing at his lips. “And yet, you listen.”

You lowered the bottle, tilting your head. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you smirk “Michael”

He didn’t respond right away, just let his eyes linger on you for a moment too long before finally stepping back. “See you around, intern.”

And just like that, the space between you as you went your separate ways. Neither of you realized the small group of nurses watching the moment. “My God” one murmurs.

Another glances up from their clipboard, smirking. “He just can't help himself”

A nurse, clearly amused, pulls out a small notepad. “Alright, bets are open. How long before Robinavitch actually does something about it?”

“I say two months.”

“Three.”

Another hums. “I give it two weeks.”

The rest of them scoff. “Please. He’s Robby.”

“Hey No risk, No reward.” She shrugged

Another nurse leans in. “You know he’s going to be the last one to realize it, right?” They all snicker. A senior nurse walks by, shaking their head.

“You people need new hobbies.”

Someone grins. “Admit it—you want in.” They hesitate. Then, under their breath, “Put me down, him admitting, 3 weeks”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Most patients you’ve dealt with so far have been easy to deal with, good behaviour, easy injuries to treat but the calm doesn’t last. You’re standing next to your patient with a scalpel, you know what you’re supposed to do but your trembling fingers betray your calm exterior. You take a deep breath and tighten your grip but it feels like it gets worse. It’s so subtle that no one else probably notices but you do and it’s enough to make you doubt yourself.

“You’re hesitating” Robby's voice cuts through your thoughts, as he now stands next to you. You don’t need to look at him to realize how close he is to you. You open your mouth to offer an apology, some excuse, but before you can speak, his hand is over yours. His large hand encapsulates yours, steadying the tool.

Robby doesn’t take over, you still have control over the situation but he provides a foundation, something to rely on.

“Take a breath” He says, softly enough for only you to hear, almost drowned out by the beeping monitors. You inhale deeply then let it out. He guides you hand lower then you take control, making the incision. Slowly, he removes his hand and gives you a little more room. Once you complete it another doctor steps in to continue the procedure. When it is finished the others leave and you finish up with the patient.

In the days that follow, something shifts between you. Robby, once so present and reassuring, becomes a distant figure. He’s still there, of course, commanding the room, offering direction when necessary. He doesn’t linger after a procedure, no quiet words of praise, no passing smiles or glances. Where before his gaze would occasionally catch yours, steady and warm, a silent understanding, now he looks past you.

Robby's voice was flat as he gave you the next assignment, his gaze moving past you to the patient file in his hand. When you brushed past him in the narrow hall, his shoulder barely grazed yours, and he didn’t even flinch. It was as if the space between you had grown suddenly wide and impassable.

At first, when Robby started pulling away, you refused to let it affect you. You were determined not to let the distance grow between you, not after all the moments that had passed between you. You kept trying, trying to be present, trying to offer that warmth you once did, even when he barely acknowledged it. You’d joke like you always did, still meet his gaze, even though it felt like the space between you had stretched impossibly wide. You tried to keep it light, keep the moments of connection alive, even when his responses were curt, his presence colder, more distant.

You told yourself it was just a phase, that he was busy, or perhaps under more stress than usual. And so, you gave him more. You kept pushing, kept offering those small gestures of care, those quiet conversations, believing that if you just kept being you—the same person who found comfort in the moments between chaos—he would eventually come around. But with each attempt, you felt the distance grow. Robby gave nothing back. He didn’t meet your gaze the same way. His smiles were rare and often fleeting, like he was somewhere else, mentally miles away.

Soon, those quiet moments you once shared became just fragments of what they were, fleeting and almost painful to try and hold onto. You began to notice it in your own actions. You didn’t reach out for his gaze anymore, because it wasn’t returned. You didn’t try to get too close, because he always stepped back, a subtle but clear signal that whatever had once been there was no longer something he was willing to nurture.

At first, you blamed yourself. You tried harder, putting everything into maintaining some semblance of what had been between you. But over time, the effort began to drain you. You found yourself hesitating more, second-guessing your words, your actions. The weight of his indifference began to chip away at you, slowly, relentlessly. You couldn’t give him everything when he gave you nothing in return. You couldn’t continue to be the person who extended herself, who made the effort, only to be met with silence or coldness.

And so, little by little, you started to pull back too. It wasn’t a conscious decision at first—it was more like instinct. You stopped seeking him out, stopped offering up those moments that used to come so naturally. You allowed the space between you to grow, because deep down, you knew it was what you both needed. If he wasn’t willing to meet you halfway, you couldn’t keep giving. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when it was clear he wasn’t letting you in anymore.

The last few interactions between you two were laced with a quiet, unspoken acknowledgment of what had passed between you. The playful exchanges, the teasing glances, all faded into something more distant, more strained. And with that, you let go, piece by piece, until the distance was all that remained between you two, and the closeness that once felt so effortless was nothing now.

[sweetdispatch]

May I get 6 cinnamon tiramisus with caramel drizzle! Thank you <3

Dynamics - L. Hughes

v' bakery pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: Luke got jealous when he spotted you talking with Jack, you wanted to punish him for that but the dynamic changed in the bedroom warning: NSFW, graphic sex (+18), choking taglist: @bunbunbl0gs @hwalllllllelujah

University time for most people was a time to party as much as you can before going into adult life. The same was for Luke until he met you. For him, you were a priority and not parties or having the most girls in the bed. He only wanted you, that's why he was following you around like a lost puppy. He desperately needed you as his girlfriend. 

You share the same feelings for him. When Luke came to you for the first time, your world stopped. You could have sworn that you never saw a more handsome man than him. That’s why his attention was everything for you. He didn’t even have to try to get to know you, you were more than willing to do it.

Weeks went and you two started dating. Everyone thought that it’s just a phase because it’s university. Nothing lasts here forever but you two lasted. You were going strong and after a year, you were talking about your future together. You weren’t even 20 but you knew that you were made for each other. 

When Luke went to New Jersey, you followed him. It was obvious for you to go after your man. You were renting an apartment together and everything was like a fairytale. You two were working and later coming back to each other's arms. Luke was well known from ditching his teammates to go back to you. Everyone was joking that he’s whipped. 

This was true. It might look for a public eye that Luke is the dominant one in your relationship but behind closed doors you were in power. Just like in university, Luke was following you everywhere and doing everything for you. Nothing was forced, it was the dynamic you two shared. 

Luke invited you to a team gathering so you could meet his team. You spent a great time together but since he was playing with his brother, you were talking with him way more than with Luke. You wanted to catch up with Jack because despite living in the same city, you barely saw each other. 

You didn’t know that this would make Luke feel jealous. It was his brother but Luke was puffy that you’re giving Jack more attention than him. He knew that at the end of the night you were coming back with him but he couldn’t help it. He needed you by his side. You were his safe place. 

You were standing with Jack and laughing when you felt a hand on your hip. Without even looking, you knew it was Luke. He was touchy with you and you were annoyed that he’s acting this way. You excused Jack for a moment and grabbed Luke’ hand. When you were in a quiet place you looked at him.

“Behave or I’ll teach you this” You gave him a look that left no room for argument but Luke pushed his luck.

“I dare you” Luke said calmly and you just smiled. You told him to take you home and he happily agreed. 

After twenty minutes, you arrived at your place and you pulled Luke into a kiss. He melted under your touch but you broke the kiss and looked at him. 

“Wait for me in the bedroom, undressed” You kissed his cheek and Luke followed your order. 

You poured yourself a glass of water and drank it, thinking about what to do with Luke. It wasn’t new for you to dominate him in bed but always make you unsure of your next move. You knew Luke enjoyed it when you were giving him orders and using him but tonight you didn’t have a plan. 

You went to the bedroom and saw him sitting on the bed with his back leaning against the headrest. You traced his leg with your nail before you sat on his thighs. You placed a hand on his cheek and caressed under his eye with your thumb. The other hand was resting against his chest. 

“You were a bad boy tonight. All touchy for no reason. What happened to this boy that hates PDA?” You asked him and placed a kiss on his chest. 

“I wanted to have you close” Luke closed his eyes at the feeling of your lips on his chest. 

“Oh you’ll have me close tonight but not like you would like it. Since your hand was wandering around my body, you won’t touch me. If I feel your hand on me, I’ll stop. Got it?” You looked at him and saw him gulp. Luke loved to have his hand on you and it was like a torture for him to keep them away. 

You stood up from his thighs and undressed yourself in front of him. You could see how desperate Luke is to touch your boobs, your hips, your ass, any part of you. You laughed at his desperation, thinking really curious how long he will last while keeping his hands to himself. 

You grabbed his dick and sat down on him. Luke growled at the feeling of your tight pussy around him. Your moves were slow, you wanted to take your time with him but he had a different plan. He placed his hands on your hip and manhandled you. Now, he was on top of you with your legs resting on his hips. 

“Love, I know what you wanted to do but I really need to fuck you” Luke lent to kiss you and started thrusting into you. 

Luke was rough. He really needed to release his stamina and seeing you undressing in front of him was his final straw. As much as he enjoyed seeing you in power, he needed to have his way with you. He was aware that tomorrow you’ll punish him but tonight it was all about fucking you without mercy. 

You didn’t expect him to do this but you loved it. Luke’ hand was resting on your leg while he was pushing his whole length into you with each thrust getting further. You were moaning under him because it felt so good. No matter how many times you two had sex, it was always a mind blowing experience for you. 

Luke’ hand went on your neck and he squeezed it around your throat. Still, he was thrusting into you. He loved seeing you so powerless and all at his mercy. Your first orgasm came unexpectedly. You didn’t know when but Luke didn’t stop. He was more turned on that you were so easily pleased. 

When Luke released your neck from his hand, he placed it on your pussy and with circulating moves, he was helping you to reach your second orgasm. You could swear that you see stars with each thrust. You cum again and quickly after Luke followed you and released into you. He laid on the bed next to you with his hand still on your pussy. 

“You did so good for me” Luke kissed your lips, still playing with your clit. You moaned into his mouth. “But we’re not done here” He whispered into your ear. “Don’t worry, tomorrow you can overpower me however you want but tonight, I’m in charge” He kissed you cheek and slipped a finger into you. You knew you’re gonna be sore tomorrow but you didn’t care about it.

[crowsofdarkness]

Bucky realizes he's in love.

cw's below the cut: small mention of smut, language, but most of all tooth rotting fluff. this is written in Bucky's pov.

The soft breeze blew through our opened window, dancing with the long curtains, as I laid in bed with her head on my chest, fingernails trailing down the bareness of my skin. I held her tighter, her smell engulfing my sense of and I fluttered my eyes shut at the familiarity. 

Roses. She knew how much of a sucker I was for that smell and made everything about her that smell. 

There was a tune playing throughout the speakers in our shared home as I adjusted the sheets over our naked bodies, the actions of our lazy Sunday replaying in my mind. 

I found myself becoming obsessed with the feeling of her head on my chest and she carefully traced the scars on my shoulder where flesh met vibranium. She knew about my past, everything I had done as The Winter Soldier, and even if I hated myself for it, she didn’t. She loved everything about me, the good and bad. There were plenty of times she could have left after many nights of nightmares but she refused. 

Her love for me was bigger than the tragic memories. 

I had lost hope after Steve left to go back in time, leaving me alone. But when she came into my life, hope began to fill my veins; hope for a happy ending finally. I never believed I deserved one but she began to prove me wrong. 

Any time I began to over think any small thing, I looked into her bright eyes and I couldn't stop myself from catching a breath because she made me lose it all over again. When I look at her, that’s the end of all of the bad thoughts.

Years together and I can’t stop the nervousness or butterflies in my stomach when we stare at one another. 

Her soft lips kissed the scars, something she had always done, and I wrapped my arms tighter around her while my own lips brushed a kiss to her forehead. The smile that graced her beautiful features awoke those damn butterflies once more. 

It had been years of loneliness and heartbreak but the second she came into my life, everything changed. She worked at the local coffee shop and was there every time I had gone in for a coffee and to read. After the second time, she had memorized my order. 

Small black coffee with a chocolate croissant. 

The moment I realized I was in love with her was when she had my order waiting for me, seconds before I arrived at the shop. 

She had become everything I wanted when I thought I couldn’t find anyone. 

Her petite fingers traced the graying stubble along my chin and I fell into the touch. 

“We should probably get up,” I muttered against her hairline. “Alpine hasn’t been fed.” 

She groaned while burying her face deep into my neck. “But I’m comfy.” 

A sly smirk pulled at my lips. “How about I bend you over the bed and fuck that pretty little hole again?” 

Her eyes met mine, lips parting as she mimicked a fish, the words feeling foreign on her lips. 

God, I love the way she couldn’t find the words to say. 

Our Sunday afternoon had drifted fast into the night and we were seated on the floor of our living room, two large pizza boxes that were empty sat a few feet from us. The television played one of her favorite movies but that did nothing to stop her from fidgeting, her nerves getting the best of her. 

“Doll, you need to sit still. It’ll be alright,” I assured her with a squeeze to her knee. 

She shook her head. “I can’t! We leave tomorrow for Greece and I suddenly remembered there’s a list of things to get done.” 

We had this vacation planned for years and now that it was fast approaching, she was a nervous wreck. But I didn’t mind. I was so in love with her that I would run anywhere with her because the two of us were enough. 

“Come here,” I pulled her into my chest with my vibranium arm and she quickly melted into my embrace. 

Whenever we were in one another’s arms, it felt like home. No matter where we were. Everything I had gone through in my life, good or bad, I knew it was all worth it because it led me to her. 

We shared a deep kiss, one that others would say belonged to two people who were so in love with each other. 

[housecow]

I’ve fantasized about loading you up in the back of the van and driving to the salt lick. A perfect name and restaurant for a domestic bovine such as yourself. Seeing the look on the staffs faces when they see you… knowing that you are going to cost them A LOT of money because you ordered the family style. Watching you in disbelief as the empty plates start stacking higher and higher. Halfway through you devouring damn near everything they have in their pit, ordering you dessert. A tray of cobbler, a pie, and two quarts of ice cream. One to keep frozen, and one to melt (for the drive home). The everyone is in awe, and relief when it’s finally over. I’m beaming with pride and telling you how proud I am. The hostess has been turning people away for 2 hours, saying they’re too low on food to accommodate any more guests. The front of house staff murmuring to back of house staff that at least they get to leave early because almost everything is gone and they need to start prep work for tomorrow. The suspension of the van is fighting for its fucking life as we pull out of the parking lot.

no fucking joke i actually went there with a feeder once 🫣 that was 50lbs ago though, i bet i could eat sooo much more now 👀

[eclipixels]

Hi! Can I request Reo x poor reader where the reader is not used to all the luxury and stuff :) thank you

Opulence

Reo Mikage x Reader

[1,770 words]

      You have always been poor. It wasn’t something you were ashamed of, but it also wasn’t something you went around advertising. You worked hard, saved what you could, and made do with what you had.

      But then there was Reo.

      Reo Mikage, the boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth. The boy who had everything—money, talent, charisma—except you.

      And that was a problem.

      A big, fat, huge problem.

      Because Reo had a massive crush on you.

      When you smiled? It felt like you only smiled for him. When you laughed? It played on repeat in his head for days. You were the one thing in his life he couldn't just buy, and that made you priceless in his eyes.

      “Dude, you’re drooling.”

      Reo snapped out of his daze, blinking rapidly as Nagi stared at him, unamused.

      “S-Shut up! You drool all the time when you’re sleeping,” Reo shot back, flustered.

      Nagi hummed, gaze flickering toward you. “She’s looking over here.”

      “Omg, really!? Where?” Reo’s head whipped around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

      Only to be met with Nagi’s lazy, amused grin.

      “…You liar.” Reo grumbled.

      Reo didn’t do anything small. So when he confessed, it was big. Like, romantic-movie-big. He had a private setup at one of the fanciest places in town, rose petals, and even a violinist.

      Unnecessary? Maybe.

      Effective? Very.

      Because you said yes.

      And that’s how you found yourself sitting in Nobu on your first date.

      “…N-Nobu?” You asked, staring up at the fancy golden sign in disbelief.

      Reo beamed. “Yeah! My grandparents knew the original owners when they first founded the chain.”

      You almost laughed at how casually he said that.

      “This is…” You trailed off, feeling so out of place.

      “Oh, do you not like it? I should’ve asked where you wanted to go, I—”

      “No, no! I like it,” you reassured quickly. “This is… more than nice. Wow.”

      Reo let out a relieved sigh, grinning. “Phew, okay! Thought I messed up there.”

      You sat down, staring at the menu. And then your stomach dropped.

      Because nothing on this menu had prices.

      Which meant it was one of those places where if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it.

      You swallowed thickly. What the hell do I even order?

      Reo must’ve noticed your hesitation. “Mmm, why are you so quiet?”

      “…I just—well, I don’t know what to get,” you admitted, embarrassed.

      Reo tilted his head, then chuckled. “Don’t worry, take your time. I’m paying, of course.”

      You let out a small laugh, trying to shake off your nerves. “I mean, you usually pay when you’re on a date.”

      That’s when you saw it.

      The way Reo’s smile faltered, his ears turning pink as he suddenly looked a lot more nervous than before.

      “Um,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck.

      You blinked.

      Then it hit you.

      “Oh.”

      Oh.

      And suddenly, the restaurant, the violinist, and the fancy setup all made sense. Your heart pounded.

      “I like you, Y/N,” Reo said softly, meeting your gaze. “A lot.”

      And then he asked you out. You stared at him, warmth creeping into your chest. He had no idea how unnecessary all of this was. You didn’t need expensive dates or fancy meals. You just needed him.

      You smiled, reaching for his hand across the table. His ears burned, but his fingers laced with yours all the same. Yeah. This was more than nice.

      Little did you know what you got yourself into.

—

      "Reo, what is all this?" you asked, staring at the bags upon bags of high-end brands sitting on your bed. Chanel, Loro Piana, Versache, brands you had only ever admired from afar.

      "Clothes," he said simply, plopping down next to you.

      "Yeah, I see that," you deadpanned. "But why?"

      Reo blinked. "You needed new outfits, right?"

      You frowned. "I never said that."

      "Yeah, but I noticed you keep wearing the same hoodie," he pointed out.

      Your face burned. That was because you couldn’t afford to buy multiple jackets just for fun.

      "...Reo, I can’t accept all of this," you said, voice small.

      Reo tilted his head. "Why not?"

      "Because it’s too much!"

      Reo looked genuinely confused, as if the concept of too much had never once occurred to him in his life. "But I like buying things for you."

      You groaned, face in your hands. How were you supposed to argue with that?

      “Besides,” He smirked, pulling out something from a pink shopping bag with the Victoria's Secret logo on it. “I really wanna see you in this.”

—

      “Let’s go on a casual date” Reo texted you one morning. You agreed. But you forgot that Reo had a habit of dragging you into stores you would never set foot in on your own.

      Today, it was a jewelry store.

      "Uh, Babe?" you said hesitantly, eyeing the five-star building like it might bite.

      "Yeah?" he smiled.

      "...You said casual."

      "This is casual."

      "For who?!"

      "Pick something," he said nonchalantly, gesturing at the glittering displays.

      You nearly choked on air. "Pick something?"

      "Yeah, anything you want."

      Your eyes darted to the price tags. Five digits.

      You gulped. "I don’t—"

      "Okay, what about this?" He grabbed a delicate bracelet with small diamonds embedded in the band. "It would look so pretty on you."

      Your heart raced. "That’s like... a semester of tuition."

      He blinked. "Huh? Oh, don’t worry about that."

      "Reo."

      You gave him the most exasperated look you could muster. Reo sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. We don’t have to buy anything. I just wanted to spoil you a little."

      You softened. He looked so disappointed. You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "You already do. You don’t need to spend money for that."

      Reo’s ears turned pink, and for once, he was the one flustered.

      "...You’re unfair," he mumbled.

—

      "Hey, want to go on a trip?" Reo asked one day.

      You nodded. "Oh, that sounds nice. Maybe a little road trip? A weekend getaway?"

      "Yeah, something like that," he hummed.

      Again—you should have known better.

      You found yourself in a luxury resort, with an ocean view suite, a private pool, and a staff that treated you like royalty.

      "Reo," you whispered as you took in the sheer opulence of the place.

      "Yeah?" he smiled, setting your bags down.

      "...What part of this is a little weekend getaway?"

      He blinked. "All of it?"

—

      You were sitting on the couch, stomach grumbling, when Reo stretched and said, "Wanna eat? I can call the chef."

      You snorted. "Yeah okay, sure."

      Reo blinked. "Okay, I’ll text him now."

      You froze.

      "...Wait, what."

      Reo, already on his phone, looked up. "What?"

      "You’re serious?"

      "Yeah?."

      You stared at him like he just told you the sky was orange. "REO, NORMAL PEOPLE DO NOT HAVE PRIVATE CHEFS."

      Reo tilted his head. "So no to the food?"

      You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. "This is insane."

      Thirty minutes later, a chef arrived and prepared a meal better than anything you had ever tasted.

      "...Okay, fine," you admitted. "Maybe this is a little cool."

      Reo just smirked. "Told ya."

—

      You and Reo went grocery shopping for fun. (His idea. Because "normal couple stuff is cute!")

      Everything was going great until you realized something.

      Reo never. Looked. At the price tags.

      Not once.

      You tested it, watching as he grabbed the most expensive imported strawberries without even glancing at the cost.

      "Reo."

      "Yeah?" he said, tossing some fancy-looking truffle pasta into the cart.

      "Do you even know how much that costs?"

      Reo shrugged. "I dunno. Does it matter?"

      "Yes it matter??"

      "...Oh," he blinked, genuinely confused. "I just grab whatever looks good."

      You grabbed his shoulders dramatically. "What is it like to live in your world?"

      Reo laughed, kissing your forehead. "Pretty nice, actually. You should stay in it forever."

—

      "Reo, can you pick me up after class?" you texted.

      "Of course! 😊" he replied.

      Simple. Easy. No big deal.

      Except when you walked outside, there was a Porsche waiting for you.

      You stared at it.

      Then at Reo, standing next to it, waving enthusiastically.

      Then back at the Porsche .

      "Reo."

      "Yeah?" he blinked.

      "Why is there a Porsche 918 Spyder?"

      "Because you needed a ride?" he said innocently. “...and the keys to the Ferrari were too far.”

      "I meant a normal ride in a regular car." You said which was dumnb now that you thought about it because the Mikages don’t own anything normal.

      "But this is more comfortable," he said, opening the door like a prince.

—

      You were having a rough week, stressed from school and life.

      Reo noticed.

      So he handed you an envelope with a sweet little note attached:

      "For my love! Hope this makes your day better. 💜"

      You smiled, touched by the gesture. Then you opened it.

      And nearly had a heart attack.

      "Why is there 750,000 yen?"

      He blinked. "It’s just a small gift?"

      "Small?"

      Reo frowned. "Do you want more?"

      You groaned, throwing yourself onto the couch. "No!"

      Reo laughed and kissed your cheek. "Well, you are priceless to me, so..."

—

      You jokingly told Reo he needed to learn about budgeting.

      Big mistake.

      Because the next day, he proudly showed you his "budget plan" on his phone.

      You read it.

      And then you screamed.

      "Babe, this is not a budget."

      "Yes, it is!" he huffed.

      "WHO SPENDS $10,000 A MONTH ON ‘MISCELLANEOUS FUN’??"

      "...Rich people?"

      "REO, THAT’S NOT HOW BUDGETING WORKS."

      He pouted. "I don’t like this budgeting thing."

—

      One day, Reo casually said, "Hey, let’s fly somewhere for the weekend."

      And without thinking, you replied, "Yeah, sure, where?"

      There was a pause.

      Then Reo smirked. "Oh? You’re not even gonna fight me on it this time?"

      You froze.

      "...Oh my god. You’ve corrupted me."

      Reo just pulled you into his arms, laughing. "Nah. You’re just finally living like a Mikage."

      You laughed at him. "Pft, living like a Mikage?"

      "Yep," Reo grinned. "Took you long enough."

      You crossed your arms. "Well yeah, at some point I just gave up."

      He shrugged, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Might as well make it official, then."

      You blinked. "Official?"

      Reo smirked. "If you married me."

      Your face heated up and you nearly choked. "Reo."

      "What?" he laughed. "Think about it. Unlimited spending, luxury vacations, and—oh yeah—me. Forever. Pretty good deal, right?"

      You shoved him playfully. "Ask me again when you don’t sound like you’re trying to sell me a subscription plan."

      Reo chuckled, pulling you closer. "Fine, fine. But just so you know... when I actually propose you’re not allowed to complain about how much I spend on it."

[glitchy1938]

(Same anon who asked for the reader who gets visions) oooo I loved the reader who gets visions post, you really know how to make a vision take flight

Sorry for requesting again, but I’ve got another idea floating in my mind. You don’t have to write this if it is too detailed of a concept :)

What about a reader who is a friend and fellow virtue of the ancients or beasts (they’re my favorite groups I’m sorry) and desperately craves to be acknowledged as worthwhile, not exactly jealous and will never say it but they feel like they are never recognized for all the work they do, so obviously they need to do more! And they begin to slowly corrupt with visible cracks throughout their dough, and they start getting more resentful, refusing to stop their work because they think their friends want to steal the glory for themselves, as they are actively destroying themself.

It took a while but I made it, I also made with my OC if that's okay.

Even If I'm Crumbling..... I Need More...!!

[Ancients & Beasts x reader]

Pure Vanilla Cookie

• You were his closest friends with White lily Cookie, and he really appreciate that you want to know more about everything.

• But he feel... Something else in you... Like, everytime he get better at something, you want to surpass him, he didn't quite get it at first...

• You never admit it to him, or anyone, but the more he get of acknowledgement, the more you feel you NEEDED to do more.

• You started to work even more harder then before, even not eating, drinking or getting any sleep ! That doesn't matter to you. All you needed what to prove to everyone that they recognise your hard work.

• Pure Vanilla tried everything... To at least make you eat, drink or get a sleep. But you deny all of that. Saying that you had to surpass yourself more and more and they won't take all your glory to themselves.

• He didn't want to force you, but that change when you saw that your Doug start to slowly crumble.

• This time, he stayed with you all time, refusing to leave your side and forcing you to take care of yourself. He didn't care that you'll hate them, all he wanted was for you to come back to your sense...!!

Hollyberry Cookie

• She's the one who saw first that you truely change, yes, it's good to surpass yourself, but not until you crumble !!

• You're one of her dearest friends and she can't stand seeing you refuse to take care of yourself and only wanted to be more stronger than her to get more glory.

• She'll force you to, even if it means locking your room with her so she'll be here with you and make sure that you won't die of working yourself until death !!

• She will not allow it.

Dark Cacao Cookie

• Now, this man will be impressed by all your work, telling you that you did great. But... That wasn't enough for you.

• As a king, he know that all eyes are on him when he do something impressing. So he doesn't get it why you so need to do more.

• You wanted to take away his crown ? No, he knew you didn't... Than why ?? Why working so hard into the aren to prove you're strong ?

• He didn't want to interrupt you at first, but it's when Caramel Arrow Cookie informed him that you passed out in the training area and your Doug was slowly crumble that he take it seriously.

• He won't listen to your pleading or order to let you go training again, for crumble yourself even more ?!? DON'T YOU SEE WHAT'S HAPPENED TO YOU ?!!

• He'll order his servent or even himself to take care of you. It doesn't matter of you don't want to, he won't lose you like he almost lost his kingdom.

Golden Cheese Cookie

• This diva will NOT tolerate that you're willing to give your life just to prove yourself more.

• Yes, she's greedy and love gold and her kingdom, and also the fame and glory, but she know what's more important and take care of yourself.

• She doesn't allow you go to found the most important treasure or something, she won't let you get hurt or killed.

• She'll pemper you for your hard work every time you're about to do more or your Doug is about to crumble more.

White Lily Cookie

• She's also working herself to get forgiven by the other Ancients, but she's very worried about you.

• She always find yous still in your desk because she's also working a little more ay Night time but seeing there with more knowledge books beside than before, where you there the hole time ?!?

• She doesn't want to force you, she take your hands and pleaded you to stop your work, you only hurt yourself more !!

• If that doesn't work.... She'll apologize but dragged you in your bed and laying on top of you so that you won't escaped.

• She'll hug you tightly as you told her that you won't let her take your work, she doesn't care about that !! SHE CARE ABOUT YOU GOD DAMN IT !!!

• She'll give you all the medecin you need to recover, and to your mental health is back to a normal cookie work.

• She doesn't want to lose you please !!

Sweet Bleu Chocola Cookie (aka Zakia)

• She already saw the Doug started to crumble when she saw you working harder then before. She immediately start to heal you injuries and taking you to your chambers.

• She maybe sweet and all, but she won't let some glory get the better of her friends, and specially not you.

• She'll even ask her uncle or sister to the throne until she's SURE that you'll stop working yourself too hard !!

• If you say to her that she won't take your work away from you, she'll cry and for the first time yell at you to stop your none sence !! DID SHE EVER VALUE GLORY MORE THAN FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE ?!?

• You'll be stuck with her until you recover, end of story.

The Beasts

Shadow Milk Cookie

• Well this man is... already interested in your hard working self, and almost happy that you see him as glory as he also see himself... that, is until he saw your Doug start to crumble.

• He won't tell you to stop, oooh no, he'll just dragge you into his chamber and give you What you need to stop.

• He won't take "no" for an answer when he ask for you to eat or sleep. You'll need all your strength if you want to recover.

• He's not the best at comforting, but you can see that he's trying to.

• His minions also are worried about you, believe it or not.

• Candy Apple Cookie pleaded her master to let her take care of you, seeing you like that makes her heart broke... Same with Black Saphire Cookie, his mission is to look out for you when you try to work again.

• He get it that you want to clam glory for your hard work, but it's not like that that you'll succeed.

Burning Spice Cookie

• This man, as we all know, is THE working cookie then anyone, and he push his army or anyone else who can be useful.

• He's proud to see you working more and more of yourself when your in the training area. But he saw the Doug slowly crumble too...

• He didn't ask you to stop or go get rest, he ORDERED you to stop. But of course, you didn't listen.

• He'll have to dragree you by picking you like a potato bag on his shoulder while you scream at him to let go of you.

• He doesn't care if you try to fight back, the last thing he want is you die because you didn't take care of yourself.

Mystic Flour Cooke

• She's the cookie of Empathy, but that doesn't mean that she's not worried about your health.

• She get it that you want to prouve yourself more, but if that mean you'll die of this, she won't accept it.

• She'll directly tell you to stop and get rest IMMEDIATELY. And if you're being stubber and refuse, she'll take you hand like a child and won't listen to your pleading to let you work

• She'll scold you for pushing yourself just for glory. Saying that it will only hurt you more than it'll give.

Red Chocola Cookie

• This girl won't listen to you saying that you need to know more or be more strong.

• she'll force you to stop doing what ever your doing to go to bed and to think of nothing else.

• The glory must really take your head, did you think she need fame or glory ? hell she'll think you go crazy because of it.

• Even if she's married and want to see her sister and brother, she'll ask- no... Order her husband (Fallacy) to send letters to her sister and brother, and cancel any work or duty she has.

• She'll give you the best medecin you need to recover, food, water, anything you need for stop hurting yourself more.

[hongjoongspoetry]

Sparks and Bruises | Song Mingi

🥊 Summary: In a world where everyone at the age of eighteen gets a metal meter implanted on their wrist that shows the amount of danger your soulmate is in. You and Mingi have known each other since high school, but went through a nasty fallout after his love for boxing turned into a dangerous gamble with his life as the price. Years later, you stumble over his injured form on the doorstep of your apartment building. Not having the heart to turn him away like all those years ago, you invite him inside with the intention to clean his wounds, but get a lot more than you bargained for.

🥊 Pairing(s): Underground boxer!Mingi x Real estate agent!Reader, brief Hongjoong x Seonghwa

🥊 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, second chance AU, fluff, exes to friends to lovers, angst (more than what I planned on)

🥊 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), reader is allergic to peanuts so go with it for the plot, brief description of bruises and cuts, explicit language, crying, kissing, car accident, pet names (love, sugar, sweets), mentioned hospital, flashbacks, not beta read

🥊 Wordcount: 12.5K

🥊 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). I just got off work (it's like 10 pm here), so I'm super tired and can barely keep my eyes open. Anyway, this is the last instalment of the Cherry Blossom March Event and while I'm sad it's over, I'm also happy because now I can focus on finishing my other stories!! A big thank you to everyone who took the time out of their day to read, leave notes and comments on my works <3 Btw I am no real estate agent and everything you read in this fic is based on excessive research (which could very well be wrong).

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains explicit scenes, not sexual content but descriptions of minor injuries as well as matures themes. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard

The arrow inside the plate on your wrist, no bigger than a lighter, irregularly traveled back and forth, going from one end of the meter to the other. For some, it would be worrisome and  concerning, but for you, it was the opposite. You had yet to meet your soulmate. The person responsible for the occasional spike in your soulometer — the metal chip showing how much danger your soulmate was in. A mandatory procedure ordered by the government a couple of decades ago, probably one of the dumbest things the rulers of the world ever implemented into society.

“We have thought it over and… We’ll sign the contract!”

You were startled as the couple attending your showing returned from their not-so-private discussion on the other side of the kitchen. The faceless person you were supposedly destined to be with — as much as a machine could decide your destiny — occupied your thoughts more often than not, even while at work.

You put on your million-dollar smile and clasped your hands together. “Perfect. Shall we set a date for you to sign the papers then?”

The couple was expecting and in need of a bigger place than their flat, which could barely fit the two of them. After many buts and ifs, the newly wed pair eagerly agreed and a date was set. You didn’t usually have showings late into the night, but considering the husband worked early mornings until late evenings, and the wife wanted him to be present, you made an exception. Money was money, after all, and you were always in need of it.

Declining their offer to drive you home, you bid the happy couple goodbye and locked up after yourself. The apartment wasn’t too far from your place and you didn't think it would be necessary to order a cab for a ten minute walk despite it being quite late. The stiletto heels you decided to wear that morning made it feel like thirty instead and you quickly regretted being a cheapskate. Why did you have to make your life more insufferable than it already was? You only needed the sky to open up and let a waterfall of rain seep down on Seoul. At least you were smart enough to wear pants and a turtleneck instead of a dress or skirt. Despite it being late March where flowers decorated the bland parks and the trees grew out their long-awaited hair again, it felt like the start of winter. 

“This is what you get for listening to Iggy Azalea,” you hissed to yourself as a familiar burn spread through your pinky toes and the back of your feet.

A crazed laughter cut through the chilly air and you automatically reached for the phone in your purse. Setting the ringtone as your best friend’s giggle was a good idea when you were still in high school and just recently turned eighteen. It wasn’t as fun when you were a woman of twenty-something-something years old with an image to uphold and your face plastered on a few boards all through town with your phone number scribbled beneath in big, bold font followed by a text literally begging people to reach out. You swore to change it every time someone called, but the thought always got lost in the shuffle of your other hundred tasks waiting to be done.

You braced yourself for it to be another client calling in the dead of night, but it turned out to be one of your saved contacts. Swiping right and putting the phone up to your ear, you answered with a tired, “Hello.”

“Finally! She answers!”

“Some of us still have work, Hongjoong. Do you know how many times I had to apologize for my ringtone?”

The identical maniac laugh recorded into your phone years ago, erupted from the device and you rolled your eyes. 

“And yet you never change it. After all these years, you still have my voice as your ringtone… That’s quite romantic.”

“Watch it or I’ll have a wild Park come for my head.”

“Seonghwa would never do that.” You let the line fall silent and Hongjoong could hear your pointed look on the other side. “Okay, he probably would. Where are you anyways?! I can hear cars in the background.”

So the bass boosted headphones hadn’t ruined his hearing yet. All those times he ignored you were on purpose then. Good to know.

“I’m on my way home from work. Had a showing a few minutes ago and it went well actually.”

Another voice accompanied Hongjoong on the other line, but you couldn’t quite make out the words. 

“Seonghwa is scolding you for not calling one of us to drive you home and I have to agree with him, sprout. It’s not safe to be out this late.”

The nickname sent you down memory lane dating all the way back to middle school, when you and Hongjoong were the shortest kids in class but didn’t let that hinder you from showing off your talents and wits. Hongjoong a smart kid who excelled in everything from math to musical history while you burned everyone in debates, presentations, speeches, basically anything relate to public speaking. Hence your choice of profession.

“I know, but it really slipped my mind and it’s not even that far from my flat, I promise. Like I’m almost there, just a few more minutes. I can practically see the building lights from here.”

“Good. Stay with me on the call until you enter though. Now, let me tell you about this guy who tried to steal my laptop…”

If he could, Hongjoong would have talked for hours which was quite rare. The man was usually drained from being cooped up in his studio all day, running on zero sleep and five iced coffees. It was in fact how you became friends. 

The kid with round chipmunk cheeks and a menacing smile approached the girl sitting in the back of the class, not making a peep. Hongjoong kicked up a conversation by complimenting the pink bows in your hair — a little detail none of your other classmates had noticed, let alone found them pretty — and offering you a peanut butter cookie that you sadly had to decline because of your allergies. Instead of ending the interaction at your meek thank you, Hongjoong took it as an official proposition of becoming friends. Seven year old Hongjong refused to go back to his seat and even nearly threw a tantrum in class, leaving the homeroom teacher with no other choice than to make you seatmates. 

You and Hongjoong quickly became a duo. Wherever you went, he followed. It marked the start of a long lasting friendship you wouldn’t trade for the world. 

“...Can you imagine that?! He grabbed my stuff and proceeded to lie straight to my face!”

You hummed into the phone at his rambling. A smile graced your face as you neared your apartment building, but disappeared quickly. Hongjoong’s voice became background noise as you slowed down. A figure dressed in all black and a hood thrown over their head sat at the doorsteps. Both arms planted on their knees and head shoved into the palms of their hands. The person was on the taller side and looked quite buff beneath the baggy clothes. You didn’t recognize them as one of your neighbours, but the swooping feeling in your stomach hinted on something else. 

Not heeding Hongjoong’s previous warning of being cautious, you decided to approach the stranger. The clicking of your heels interrupted the peaceful silence of the night and the person immediately looked in your direction. Sharp and angry eyes met yours, and the furious spark swirling in them morphed into surprise. Your heart jumped in your throat as you recognized the person. Of all the people in the world, you certainly didn’t expect to find him at your doorstep.

“Hongjoong? I’ll have to call you back.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

“Nothing– Or well, something, but nothing dangerous– I’ll just call you back okay?”

“...You sure?”

“Yes, one hundred percent.”

“Okay. Talk to you later then.” 

You quickly pressed the red button and lowered your phone. The man was still staring at you, the fear that his imagination was playing a trick on him lingering. That if he looked away, you’d disappear from his line of sight.

Sweat spread along your palms and your pulse was loud in your ears as you walked up to the man.

“Mingi?” 

He scrambled up to his feet and took hold of the railing with one hand while the other pressed against his left rib and a surprised wince slipped through his lips. 

“Long time no see, huh?”

Your eyes darted all over him. Red and blue blemishes covered almost the entire surface of his face and trickles of sweat ran down the side of his face. You didn’t want to think what hid beneath his clothes. 

The last time you saw him was all the way back in high school. A scrawny boy with legs for days, but the coordination of a newborn foal and a smile that lit up your world. The man before you grew into his big features and lost the youthful look. The pointy nose and plump lips were still there, but accompanied by prominent cheekbones, a sharp jaw, a piercing gaze and a chiseled face that wasn’t the shape of a triangle. His hair, once black and short, was now a dark shade of brown and longer than ever, reaching below his nape and bangs falling over his brows. A lot in his appearance changed, but the cuts and bruises remained, pouring acid on your tongue. 

Ignoring the bitterness pooling in your stomach, you decided to keep the conversation civil. A stark contrast to how your last encounter went. 

”Are you… alright?”

“Yeah, no, I was on my way home, but just needed to sit down…”

You weren’t going to pry despite clearly seeing he was anything but alright. If he didn’t want to tell you, who were you to force him? 

Offering him a light smile, you tried keeping the tone light. “What are the odds of you sitting on my doorstep, huh?” 

“Yeah… How long has it been since…”

“Four? Five? Five years.”

Mingi whistled lowly and a silence occupied the street. Everyone decided to stay in as no cars or other people lingered around. You wouldn’t say it was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t pleasant either and you didn’t know what to do. Leaving him out in the cold wasn’t an option, but inviting him didn’t sound right either. After a long fight between your brain and heart, you decided to listen to the beating organ in your chest.

“Wanna… come up? To my apartment.”

Mingi looked up at you through his fringe and the soft roundness to his eyes teleported you back to high school. Keeping your composure, you hastily added on to the sentence.

“T-To, to clean up and maybe have something to eat?”

Had someone asked you five years ago what you’d say to Mingi if the opportunity presented itself, you surely wouldn’t have invited him to your home or offered him a free meal. The most he’d get out of you would be a one-finger salute. Fast forward one thousand eight hundred and twenty five days and Mingi was lent a helping hand instead. It was enough time for you to mature into a more rational woman who could, for better or for worse, put her feelings aside and think with her brain. 

Mirrors surrounded the entire inside of the elevator, even on the doors, and you held back from laughing at the reflection. There couldn’t have been an odder pair than you two. Mingi, dressed in all black with colorful blotches decorating his intimidating face, and you, wearing designer from head to toe. Even your bags were opposites — his a dingy gym bag that was a thread away from falling apart and yours from the recent Louis Vuitton collection. It was quite a funny look, but not a bone in your body vibrated with glee.

As the elevator doors closed and the mechanism carried you up the many flights of stairs, the reality dawned upon you. A multitude of questions you hadn’t thought of before inviting Mingi inside popped up like mosquitoes during summer nights — annoying, but unavoidable. The poor attempt of convincing yourself it was just a kind gesture, a friend helping a friend, you couldn’t shoo away the nagging fact that nothing of your and Mingi’s past was platonic. Shame and guilt curled in the pit of your stomach. Knowing your soulmate was out there somewhere, probably waiting for you, while you were cozying up to a man who wasn’t meant to be yours in the first place was sickening. 

The ding of your arrival sounded through the speakers and you quickly went first with Mingi hot on your heels. Unlocking your front door, you threw the keys in a bowl the shape of a fish — a housewarming gift from Hongjoong — and stripped your outerwear. It was first when you put your stuff aside that you realized Mingi was still standing by the door and hadn’t moved since crossing the threshold. The man was shamelessly taking in his surroundings and you wondered what he thought of your apartment. Was it to his liking? Did it suit you? Did he like it? Why did you care?

“Uhm, you can just hang your stuff here,” you gestured to the coat rack mounted to the wall, “while I get dinner ready.”

You didn’t wait around to see him subtly nod, instead you made an escape to the safety of your kitchen. It was weird having Mingi over. It was weird being civil to one another. The tension was still there since your last encounter, like static in the air that wouldn’t really go away. The soft pad of feet grew louder and you threw a look over your shoulder to see Mingi in the doorway, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyes darting all over the place. Aside from his appearance, it seemed that his habits hadn’t changed — good as bad — but it wasn’t your place to pry. Not anymore.

“Is it alright if I… wash up now?”

A heat crawled up your neck and attacked your cheeks. “Y–Yeah, of course!” You cleared your throat and continued, “The bathroom is on the left of the hallway and there are towels in the cupboard above the washing machine.”

Mingi nodded, but didn’t budge from his spot. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and leaned against the doorframe to take on a relaxed posture, yet he looked anything but relaxed.

“I… I– Uhm, don’t… I kinda don’t have a spare set of clothes to change into…”

“Oh… Oh!”

“Yeah,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth, a low hiss escaping as he tried to ignore the stiff atmosphere. 

“That’s alright! I think I have something you can use. Uhm, you can start washing up while I see what I can do.”

Rummaging through your closet for your brother’s clothes to lend Mingi wasn’t something you ever imagined doing in all your years of living, but here you were. Hunched over, searching like a madwoman for an extra hoodie and some basketball shorts or a pair of sweatpants that wouldn’t be too small on the giant currently occupying your bathroom. Your brother had been in your apartment a grand total of three times and by some stroke of luck, he’d left behind clothes he thought might come in handy for his next visit. Who knew they’d be useful for more than just that? 

You didn’t find a hoodie, but you did spot a black compression shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants that would have to do. You just hoped they wouldn’t be too tight. To be on the safe side, you even snagged one of your brother’s boxers. It was one thing to share clothes and another thing to share underwear, but if you got to choose, you’d happily accept the fresh pair instead of reusing your sweaty undies. The choice was up to Mingi in the end. With the clothes neatly folded in your hands, you marched toward the bathroom and triple knocked on the door.

“Uh, I found some clothes you can use!”

The harsh drops of the shower abruptly stopped and you patiently waited for a response, but nothing came. You raised your hand, fingers balled into a fist, and as you swung it forward to knock again, the door suddenly opened. A cloud of steam escaped from the hot bathroom and Mingi’s very naked body appeared in the slight opening. His stomach was a perfect display of muscle, each of the six abs sculpted like marble. You would’ve ogled longer hadn’t the raspberry and plum colored blemishes covered a huge part of his toned skin. His hair dripped on the tiled floor and a white towel hung dangerously low on his hips. The warmth tickling your whole body evaporated into a numbing cold at the bruises. Swallowing nervously, you forced your eyes back up. 

Mingi flicked his head sideways to move the wet strands from his face and his tongue darted out to lap at his dry lips, a motion you followed attentively. The raise of his brow, a silent question urging you to speak up, had you stumbling over your words.

“S–So, I... I, uh, found something you can… change into!” 

The clothes were thrust harshly into his bare chest, and Mingi nearly dropped the towel in order to catch them. Before he could utter so much as a "thanks," you bolted back to the kitchen and whipped out leftovers from last night. Anything to keep you busy and distracted from the jaw-dropping image that refused to leave you alone. Mingi eventually joined you in the kitchen. He leaned against the counter beside the stove, where you guarded the kimchi stew from overheating, and crossed his arms over his chest. The already prominent muscles grew more defined beneath the tight fabric. It was difficult to ignore his gaze peering down at you, and you couldn’t decide if your cheeks flared from a natural bodily reaction or from the heat of the stove.

The circular table behind you was already set, with a pair of utensils and plates aligned opposite each other. You removed the pot and placed it in the center of the table, silently beckoning Mingi to take a seat. His hair was still wet, but not dripping and despite wearing clothes, you couldn’t muster up the courage to look him in the eyes. The late dinner was done in a deafening silence interrupted by the clink of utensils and lip smacking. Not able to bear the thickness in the air, you cleared your throat and asked the first thing to pop up in your mind. 

“Um… do you... want me to treat your bruises?” 

The confidence you spent years mastering and using in your daily life deflated like a dramatic balloon flying around the room until it fell limply on the floor. Mingi was mid shoving food into his mouth and froze as soon as the words reached his ears. His lips were parted enough for you to catch a glimpse of his slightly crooked front tooth and a wave of nostalgia hit you square in the nose. The man before you had changed so much, yet not at all.

Mingi took a bite of the kimchi and rice to buy himself time to think your proposal over. It wasn’t a bad shout as you did have experience treating his wounds considering you were the one tending to him back in high school. He slowly chewed and swallowed, and you were starting to regret ever opening your mouth.

“Sure,” he answered while giving his full attention to the bowl of stew before him and you  couldn’t have been more relieved. He didn’t have to see the way you bit the inside of your cheek, tightly gripped your spoon or raised your brows to your hairline.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence and for once, you didn’t care if it wrapped around your throat and suppressed the air from entering your lungs. This was all so surreal. There wasn’t a day where you thought you’d be eating left-over kimchi stew with your ex-boyfriend and then agree to treat his wounds — the thing that drove you apart all those years ago. The universe worked in a funny way. Instead of bringing you closer to your soulmate, it led you straight to the past. 

Putting the bowls in the sink, you gestured for Mingi to return to the bathroom while you put away the dishes. It hadn’t dawned on you that by helping Mingi treat his wounds, you’d have to merge your personal bubbles into one and actually touch him, even if it was as much as a graze of your fingertips along his skin.

Rounding the corner of the hallway and stopping before the entrance to the bathroom with a medkit in your hands, you were caught off guard by the image before you. Mingi was seated on the toilet lid, hunched over with his forearms resting on his thighs. You could see the top of his head — something you rarely did back in high school — as he faced the tiled floor. A swoop in your stomach urged you to run your fingers through his strands, but the impulse was quickly shut down. You stepped into the bathroom with feigned confidence. Mingi looked up as your sock-clad feet came into view, your big toes wiggling nervously. You placed the kit on the sink and grabbed the things you needed, starting with alcohol wipes. There wasn’t much you could do about the colored bruises already turning an ugly shade of yellow and purple, but the few cuts — like the one on his bottom lip and around his eyebrows — were easier to treat.

“This may sting,” you whispered, shuffling closer to him.

Mingi parted his legs to give you better access to his face. You put a finger beneath his chin and tilted it upward before gently dabbing the wipe against his brow ridge. A hiss filled the bathroom, but you didn’t stop cleaning the wound. Despite not being in this situation since high school, when Mingi would get his ass beat in the boxing ring and show up at your door with new cuts adorning his face every other weekend, you still remembered all the steps of the treatment. They were etched into your spine and controlled your limbs without a strain.

Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your brows almost touching from how deeply furrowed they were and Mingi wanted to smooth out the skin between them, but did no such thing. Instead, he diverted his attention elsewhere and focused on your lips, which he’d argue was the worse choice of the two. Scooping a generous amount of ointment on a Q-tip, you dabbed it on the cut and finished it off with a small band-aid that smoothly blended in with his hue. You tried to put off treating his lips, but apparently even Mingi had a limit to how many punches to the face he could take, and you eventually had to bite the sour apple and just get it over with.

It had been silent since you warned him about the sting from the alcohol wipes, broken only by a few of his grunts and hisses. Yet, the silence never felt as loud as it did in that moment when you cupped his chin in your left hand and stared intently at his plump lips. A determined heat swirled in your eyes and Mingi couldn’t look away. It took everything in him not to instinctively bite down on his bottom lip or run his tongue over it.

“Relax your lips,” you said, brushing your thumb along the bottom row. 

You didn’t realize what you had done until a second later and Mingi couldn’t chuckle at your appalled expression, as he was equally frozen in place. Both of you were left wide-eyed, mouths hanging open and brains going haywire. A pleading sparkle glimmered in his dark eyes, but you refused to give in, keeping your focus on his lips — lips that were so kissable. Warmth washed over you and there was nothing you wanted more than for the ground to swallow you whole. The weight of his burning eyes was too heavy for you to bear, so you tried to redirect the attention by doing the one thing you did best — talking.

“Are you still fighting?”

It seemed to do the trick as Mingi broke out of the captivating spell. In an exhausted tone, the one you’d hear between a couple constantly bickering and reaching their end, he breathed out your name.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

You hastily applied the ointment and retracted your hand, but Mingi was faster. He grabbed your wrist, his thumb landing on the soulometer in the quick act and an electric crackle burst where your skin connected. A beat or two passed before he decided to speak up.

“I am fighting, just not as much… I kinda feel bad for my soulmate.” The corner of his mouth pulled up in a faint smirk and a chuckle followed at his poor attempt of easing the awkward air.

Your heart dropped into your stomach and you didn’t think it was possible for it to go any further from there, but hearing the rest of his sentence proved you wrong. Before the hollow feeling could reflect on your face, you forced the corners of your lips up in a fabricated smile. An identical smile to the one caught in a multiple of billboards all over Seoul. 

“I wish mine would do the same. They always seem to find themselves in some trouble.”

A thick gulp ventured down his throat and the shaking panic in his eyes morphed into a forced calm. “I’m sure if they knew you were this worried, they’d stop running headfirst into danger.”

Five years had passed since the soulometer was injected into your wrist, enough time for your soulmate to change their ways, to stop giving their other half constant fear every night. Yet, it wasn’t the distance or the lack of knowledge about each other’s lives that weighed on your heart. The true reason lay deeper — your soulmate simply didn’t care enough to stop or perhaps they lacked the means to break free from the dangerous path they’d chosen. It was never about being physically apart, but about the emotional distance — the helplessness of knowing that, despite everything, they continued to surround themselves with danger. You didn’t have the heart to confide in Mingi about it, to express the quiet ache you carried, because saying it aloud would mean admitting that the person you loved was still caught in a cycle they couldn’t escape, or didn’t want to. 

Truthfully, Mingi was also the last person you wanted to confide in about the matter.

“I guess so.”

The brief and accidental encounter with Mingi was supposed to stay a long lost media in your brain, cluttered together with other minor memories. That was what you told yourself as Mingi left your apartment, sweaty clothes in a trash bag and belly full of warm leftovers. The version of him you remembered from all those years ago still lived on in your imagination, the bitter note of how everything ended, a constant reminder as to why the encounter should just be that — short, consistent and insignificant. As the morning sun peeked from between the high buildings and the dark sky bleed out to a baby blue hue, you’d return to your everyday life of selling apartments while the dishwasher rinsed the memory of what occurred in the space of your four walls. 

The open PDF on the computer screen illuminated your face and the bazillion numbers would’ve been overwhelming if your mind wasn’t occupied by the thoughts of a certain man with feline-shaped eyes and annoyingly juicy lips. Whatever you did — drown yourself in work, spend time with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, try out the new restaurant in town — nothing was good enough to forget Song Mingi and that night. The situation just felt so right. A domestic reality you yearned for since you graduated high school and moved into your own flat. The wish to have someone by your side, to stuff your face in greasy food, stay up late at night and watch a plethora of rom-coms while cuddled up to them, and sleep until the sun was high in the sky. Mingi re-awakened those feelings you locked away in a chamber behind your heart.

A stack of papers fell on your desk with a thud and pulled you out of your wishful thinking. Jongho, your freakishly strong colleague, plopped down on a vacant plush sofa that was mainly there for clients to use while discussing potential deals.

“You excited to get drinks after work?” He asked, tugging on his perfectly made necktie.

You massaged your forehead, completely having forgotten about the collective outing you and your co-workers had every month. “Is that today?”

“Whoa, don’t tell me you, the most unforgettable person I know, forgot about our end-of-the-month-party!? Woo is gonna have a blast when I tell him!”

Jongho didn’t question your sudden loss of memory at first. The younger agent found the situation perfect for a round of teasing or perhaps even as future blackmail material. Concern flashed in his eyes when you made no attempt to defend your honor and instead buried the rest of your face in the palms of your hands.

“Hey… is everything… alright?”

“Yeah… No? I don’t know.” 

Something was really wrong because you were never tired. In fact, Jongho had never seen you without a smile or a spring in your step. You were always collected, whether it was your clothes, hair or mood. Fire alarms went off in his head and plans be damned if he didn’t at least try to figure out what was going on. It was easier said than done, though, because he didn’t know how to approach the topic and ended up sitting there with his mouth parted like a fish out of water. The overthinking was starting to trigger a headache, so he settled on the simplest, but hopefully, most effective question he could think of.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Your reply was instantaneous. “I need to not think about it.”

A mischievous gummy smile spread across his face. “You just signed yourself up for regret, my dear friend.”

As you were about to ask to elaborate, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out for the biggest menace in the company.

“Wooyoung-ya!”

Albeit curious, the pair didn’t try to fish out context clues or the story behind your emotional state. Wooyoung lived up to Jongho’s promise of making you regret joining them for drinks and it didn't stop there. They both continuously visited your office throughout the rest of the shift. Wooyoung would nonchalantly enter the room as if he didn’t have anything up his sleeve, step up to the window and inspect the wilted plant burning up from being in the sunlight for too long, when he was actually throwing you curious glances from the corner of his eye. Then, before quickly taking his leave, he’d subtly slide you a packet of gummies and run as if his life depended on it. One would believe you were engaging in some shady transaction that would definitely make you both lose your real estate license. 

Jongho was a different story. The youngest of the trio wasn’t good with his words, but the affection could be read through his actions. Although they were questionable. He, too, invaded your room in subtle fashion and touched everything that didn’t require human contact — your Sanrio figurines, picture frames, ornaments still up from Christmas. While it was annoying in the moment, their antics kept you from circling back to the one person who had made his grand return after five years of radio silence. Good thing you hadn’t planned on rekindling that flame ever again. But what was written in your calendar didn’t align with the universe. 

The happy hour had ended a while ago, and while Jongho and Wooyoung made sure to get you home first, your stomach rumbled the second you stepped foot into the apartment. What better meal to have in a tipsy state than some ramen? 

The trip to the corner shop was supposed to be quick and relaxing — a weak attempt to distract yourself from the headache blooming at the back of your head. Perhaps that was why you weren’t fully aware of your surroundings, stumbling into racks displaying different flavors of chips and accidentally knocking things out of place. You purposefully ignored the scorching gaze of the cashier and hastily moved to hide between the aisles. But what you didn’t expect was for another figure to round the opposite corner, causing you to bump headfirst into them. The ramen cups and energy drinks piled up in their basket tumbled to the floor, and you quickly crouched down to gather as many things as your arms would allow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

The person didn’t say anything and you expected them to be very annoyed, but that wasn’t the case. The familiar face looking down at you with a tight-lipped smile caused you to freeze on the spot.

“Hey.” Mingi flared his fingers in what was supposed to resemble a wave, but it came off more awkward than intended.

A painful cramp fluttered at the back of your neck as the position wasn’t the most comfortable, your head craned uncomfortably as you looked up at him, the strain making it feel like it might snap at any moment. Yeah, the university wasn’t on your side.

“Here.” 

He knelt down to be at your level, though it would never really match, and urged you to place the belongings in the basket. It was impossible to tear your eyes from him, but Mingi didn’t notice your stare as he gathered the unscattered snacks and drinks in the carrier. Once was a coincidence, twice is a pattern, you thought and swallowed thickly.

“Alright, let’s stand up.” 

He rested his arm on his propped-up knee, while the other hand was held out for you to take. On a count of three, you both stood up simultaneously and your hand immediately returned to your side. 

“What are you doing here?”

The question came off more like an interrogation than a casual inquiry and you winced at your loose tongue. Mingi didn’t seem to care though.

“Nothing much, just wanted a late night snack.” As if you didn’t understand, he grabbed one of the ten ramen cups in his basket and gently shook it. The contents rattling together and overpowering the whirring sound of the freezers. “What about you?”

“Ah, same here…”

Mingi glanced down at your empty hands and smacked his lips together, “Cool.”

“Yeah…”

The young cashier who couldn’t be older than a high school graduate nearly suffocated from the sudden thickness in the convenience store. 

“Uhm, you gonna get anything?”

“What? Oh! Right! Let me just…” You trailed off and darted over to the refrigerators, grabbing the first thing that came into view. 

You snagged a bag of shrimp chips on your way back too. Banana milk and shrimp chips, what a combination! The reasons for your late-night adventure had started with the craving for ramen, but somewhere between the aisle mishap and the distraction of other snacks, the noodles had been completely forgotten. In the meantime, Mingi moved over to the cashier register and patiently waited for the kid to scan his items. 

You shuffled behind him and Mingi turned sideways, one of his brows cocked up. “Here, give me that.” 

Before you could protest or dodge his advances, the items in your hands were stolen from beneath your nose and placed on the counter. 

“Hey, no, I can pay for that.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Mingi–”

“I said don’t worry about it.” There was a certain finality to his tone that told you there was no point in further arguing. Mingi swiped his card as the cashier packed your things in two separate plastic bags. 

Standing outside the Seven-Eleven, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat, the handles of the bag clinging to your wrist. “You didn’t have to do that. I can pay for myself.”

Mingi’s breath escaped in a cloud of vapor, lingering in the cold air before it dissolved into the sky. The corner of his mouth lifted into a one-sided grin. 

“I know.”

Never letting you pay for anything was just another addition to the long list of habits he still clung to since high school. Mingi really hadn’t changed, and you couldn’t deny the disappointment that settled in as you witnessed it.

“Good. Then I’m leaving now. Good night.” You turned on your heel and began walking in the direction of your home.

“W–Wait! Let me walk you home.”

You didn’t spare him a glance. “No need for that. This is one of the safest neighborhoods in Seoul, actually.”

Another ‘I know’ died on his lips. If anyone on this earth knew how out of danger you were, it would be Mingi.

“T–That’s good, but... it would help me sleep at night if I knew you got home safely.” 

After all this time, you still had a hard time telling him no. Sighing, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat, your resistance crumbling despite yourself. “Fine, you can walk me home.”

The walk was short, but lasted longer than ever and you were regretting your choices of not standing your ground against him. You would never admit it out loud, but his dimpled smile and two moles were your greatest weakness and there was no way you’d ever win against them. 

Mingi cleared his throat. “What have you been up to? You know, since high school.”

“Have you thought about what college to apply for?” Mingi asked and intertwined his fingers across his abdomen.

“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. 

You lay on the grass, staring up at the night sky. The black canvas was dotted with a million, billion stars, leaving no space untouched. It had been Mingi’s idea to go stargazing, but considering neither of you had a driver’s license or the energy to trek up a mountain in the middle of the night, you figured the view wouldn’t be any different from your backyard.

He turned to you and followed the outline of your profile. God, you were beautiful. “Really? How come?”

“I don’t know. I feel like there are so many options, like how will I know what’s good for me.”

“Whatever you choose, sugar, you’ll figure it out. You always do.” Now it was your turn to face him and he flashed you a reassuring smile.“Sometimes, the best choice is the one that feels right in the moment.”

“...Being with you feels right.”

Nothing could compare to back then. Sure, you experienced fleeting moments of happiness, but they didn’t last longer than the life of a snowflake. Did Mingi ask that to see if you were still stuck in the past? If your time together was the peak of your happiness? He didn’t get to do that. To slither his way into your heart and admire everything you had been through without him by your side.

“Nothing special. I’m a real estate agent, so I’ve been busy selling houses and apartments.”

“Nothing special my ass. That’s amazing. But what is expected of the smartest girl in our high school, huh? I always knew you’d achieve great things.” 

Blood pooled beneath your cheeks, burning hotter than a fever of thirty-nine degrees, and you hated how, despite everything, he still turned you into a giddy high school girl who made eye contact with her crush. To be fair, it wasn’t too far from the truth and that was a scary realization on its own. All it took was a measly compliment and you turned to mush.

“What about you? What are you doing these days?”

A silence stretched between you far heavier than anything you had ever felt before. It was as if the question had torn through some fragile barrier, leaving him exposed. His eyes, once sharp and filled with glee, now seemed distant, as though searching for something lost. You could feel the weight of the pause, like a storm brewing in the space between you. What was he really doing these days? More importantly, what had he been doing all this time out of your reach?

“A little bit of everything. Anything I can get my hands on, really.”

“You didn’t study after high school?”

“You know school wasn’t my strongest suit. Stuffy classrooms and obnoxious teachers talking my ear off never got me anywhere, I mean, I barely passed high school. I was more comfortable with my hands in motion and figuring things out as I went. School was ever it for me. It always felt like I was waiting for something that never came.”

Mingi wasn’t wrong. Although he was a smart kid, staying awake studying until the dead of night and then working an underpaid nine-to-five job wasn’t for him. But you couldn’t shake away the bitterness of how he threw away the opportunity of a normal life with you for a bloody ring and a life of unpredictability. The punches he took in that world weren’t just physical — they hit somewhere deeper, somewhere you couldn’t reach. You had always wanted something more stable, something real to hold on to, but Mingi had chosen the chaos, the fight, over everything else. Perhaps that was why the universe decided not to tie your red string to his pinky, knowing it would hurt you more than his decision.

Coming to a stop outside your apartment, the memory of your first encounter after a few years still fresh in your mind. 

“Like boxing?”

Mingi’s eyes softened, but he didn’t speak, his mouth pressing into a thin line. The silence between you both was heavy, filled with things unsaid. It was the kind of silence that made your heart ache, knowing that there was so much left unresolved between you, yet you couldn’t find the words to fix it.

“Good night, Mingi,” you finally said, taking a shaky breath as you turned back to your door again. 

The finality in your tone hung in the air like a weight neither of you could lift. You didn’t look back as you reached for the door handle, but you knew Mingi was still there, standing in the same place, holding onto the same regrets.

Reaching your apartment, you flicked on the lights and quickly discarded your outerwear. You turned on the switches in every room and placed the bag of goods on the kitchen table. 

Disappointment fueled every movement. Grabbing a pot from the lower cupboard, you filled it with water, not caring as it splashed everywhere. When you set it down on the stove, you didn’t bother being careful, letting it thud onto the surface. You waited — oh-so-patiently — for the water to reach its boiling point and shoved a hand into the plastic bag. The expected rustling of plastic and cold drinks didn’t come. Instead, you felt the hard, smooth texture of something else. Knitting your brows together, you took hold of the square object, no bigger than a container of pudding.

In your palm was a plastic box of peeled and cut oranges.

Your head rested on your folded arms, eyes cast on the baby-blue sky taunting you from behind the windows. It was a beautiful day. What a shame you were stuck in a room with thirty other kids and no air conditioning. Your homeroom teacher was late — an uncanny occurrence, considering she always emphasized the importance of being on time and never failed to follow through. Until today.

The door to the classroom slid open with a thud, but the class had yet to quiet down, and by that single reaction, you knew it wasn’t Ms. Choi who had entered. The previously loud chatter of your friend group turned into hushed whispers and skittish snickers that reached your ears, but you didn’t bother to see what had gotten them so giggly. It was probably Jihoon, the new boy in class, who effortlessly managed to twirl every girl around his finger with just a look. He wasn’t your type — you preferred them tall, lanky, and clumsy. Jihoon was on the shorter side and had muscles that seemed unnatural for a sixteen-year-old. Plus, you weren’t into soccer boys. No, your style was more martial arts.

A hand, twice the size of yours, appeared out of nowhere and placed a clementine — your favorite fruit — on your desk, just inches from your face. Your eyes widened, staring at the bright fruit in disbelief. Groggily, you pushed away from the comfortable spot against the desk, only to quickly notice the figure looming over you.

Song Mingi.

“You skipped lunch,” he stated nonchalantly, offering an explanation for the sudden appearance of the fruit.

The muffled squeals of your friends, combined with Mingi’s unexpected act of chivalry, sent heat rushing to your cheeks, leaving you flustered and unsure of how to react. Gift-giving and small acts of service weren’t foreign between you and Mingi. He always seemed to know your cravings, bringing you peeled fruit and sugary snacks without you ever having to ask. In return, you tended to his cuts, massaged the tension from his neck and shoulders after heavy training, and always seemed to find ways to care for him without words. But that was done in private, never in public. Especially not in front of your friends who were having a field day with his new revelation.

“Ah,” Mingi breathed out, picking up the orange once more. 

Silently, he peeled off the thin skin, revealing the vibrant fruit hidden beneath. But he wasn’t done yet. With a casual movement, he stuffed the citrus-scented rind into the pocket of his school uniform before carefully removing the white pith wedged between the clementine’s segments. You didn’t like the white parts. His towering form caught the attention of the rest of the class and by now everyone intently watched the exchange. 

The clementine looked bare now. He held out the fruit again, waiting for you to extend your hand, careful not to let it touch the surface of your desk. A yellowish stain colored his nails, a discoloration that wouldn't fade with just one wash, and the acidic smell lingered, even stronger now. It was the main reason you didn’t like peeling them in the first place.

Mingi, having heard your confession a few weeks ago, made it his mission to always give you peeled oranges. It warmed your chest to know he was keeping that promise.

Apparently, the universe wasn’t satisfied with your first and second encounters because the third one happened just a little less than a week later. You were meeting up with Hongjoong and Seonghwa at a nearby cafe to catch up on the hecticness of your lives — also known as gossip about your workplaces and bonding over the latest episode of When Life Gives You Tangerines. The name of the drama threw you down a steep hill of memories, but you stood up, dusted off your knees and trekked back up. You didn’t want to associate him with the family of fruit anymore.

The clock had just passed five-thirty AM and you were supposed to be there ten minutes ago. It didn’t help that you hit every red light possible. At least the weather was nice. Not a single cloud occupied the baby-blue sky and the spring breeze scattered butterfly kisses along your body. It could’ve been worse. You thought of gloomy clouds and cold rain, and immediately shuddered. Yeah, it definitely could’ve been worse. 

The breath caught in your throat as a bus sped by, just a little over the limit. You exhaled in relief as it passed, but that relief was short-lived when you locked eyes with none other than Mingi on the other end of the sidewalk. It felt as if the universe were laughing in your face, throwing everything you didn’t want right at you. You’d take gloomy clouds and rainy weather over seeing Mingi again. The worst part was that it was a lie because even in the stormiest times, he managed to light up your surroundings, and the erratically beating heart in your chest served as your witness. 

A black hoodie swallowed his towering frame and a pair of chunky headphones covered his head. You couldn’t see him that well, but you assumed the shining reflection around his collar was from his stacked necklaces. The cuts along his face had healed nicely — in fact, they were completely gone — and you wondered if your last encounter had anything to do with it or if he had just gotten better at dodging flying fists.

You always seemed to end things on a bitter note, yet you ignored the sourness on your taste buds and raised your hand in a small wave. He returned it with a tight-lipped smile and a subtle tug of his headphones, letting them rest around his neck instead. Mingi bit down on his bottom lip, seemingly contemplating something. Coming to terms with his thoughts, he raised a finger, wordlessly telling you to wait and threw a quick glance at the red light as if it would hurry up from a single look. Although you had every right to ignore him, you just couldn’t. You had always been weak when it came to him, never really able to tell him no and it appeared some things just never changed. 

Mingi’s face lit up as the light turned to green. The man was so eager to cross the street — to get to you — that he didn’t bother checking both sides before walking out. Unlike the others, he missed the speeding vehicle heading zooming through multiple red lights and showing no signs of stopping. You felt it before you saw it. The spike in your left wrist, the rush of the arrow sky rocketing from zero to a hundred. Your legs moved on their own before you could form the first letter of his name. One moment you were rooted to the ground, eyes wide and mouth parted, and in the next you harshly collided with Mingi, hoping your spurt of strength was enough to knock him off balance and away from the dangerous metal chunk on wheels. 

The world didn’t stop spinning, but time slowed down as Mingi fell backward. His hand came up to cradle your head, while the other slithered around your waist. Your own arms were pressed against his chest from the push you gave him. The landing was harsh, but Mingi took most of it as his back slammed against the pavement and your face became buried in the crook of his neck and shoulder. The passersby approached you with questions of worry and concern, their faces etched with confusion and anxiety at the entire situation. Everyone was a bit shaken up at the tragedy that could’ve been. Your body refused to cooperate and the only thing you could do was tangle your fingers into the material of his hoodie, clinging to it for dear life, trying to distinguish reality from imagination. How cruel — he had just returned to your life, only to almost be taken out of it again, permanently.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers massaging your scalp as the other hand scrunched up the back of your shirt.

A stutter of words slipped out, none of which Mingi could make sense of. He sat up, trying to get a better look at you, but you refused to part from the comfort of his chest. You didn’t need to see it to know your soulometer had calmed down — you felt it in every fiber of your being. Your soulmate was safe, and you were too, now that you were in the arms of a living, breathing Mingi.

“Please, sweets, I need to know if you’re alright.”

Desperation dripped from his voice like sticky honey falling from a dipper and it struck sharply in your core, bringing you back to the present.

“Okay,” you mumbled against his clothes, just loud enough for it to reach his ears and Mingi exhaled in relief. He pressed a kiss on your hairline and your heart fluttered at the domestic gesture. 

A couple of strangers offered to call an ambulance, but Mingi waved them off, saying it wasn’t necessary and that no one was harmed — just a bit shaken up. He thanked them nonetheless and it did the trick as the crowd dissolved, the people returning to their everyday life, but with a story to slap down on the dinner table.

Mingi placed a palm beneath your left thigh as the other went around your waist to keep you sturdy as he got up from the pavement. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

It didn’t matter how much you wanted to tell him to let you down, that you could walk on your own and didn’t need a chaperone — the words wouldn’t roll off your paralyzed tongue. Feeling the stares of strangers burn into you, you hid your face in the crook of his neck and didn’t pull away until you were safely in your apartment. The entire journey home, you tried to wrap your head around the event: the near-death experience, your body taking over while your mind went slack, the sudden spike in your soulometer. You didn’t dare think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t reached Mingi in time — if you were just a second too late, if you hadn’t noticed the car. A shiver ran down your spine, and you pressed your lips together to distract yourself from the tears threatening to soak Mingi’s hoodie.

You needed a distraction from the what-ifs, and you needed one pronto. Trying to focus on something other than Mingi being flattened by that stupid car, you racked your brain for something, anything else, when it suddenly hit you. In all the seven years you had your soulometer, it had never even grazed, let alone pushed hard against the other end of the scale. 

Back inside your apartment, you plopped down on the sofa and dropped your head into your hands. A throbbing ache pulsed through every part of your head, and the constant buzzing of your phone wasn’t helping. You had an inkling of who it could’ve been, and as you fished it out of your bag, the hundreds of messages and missed calls from both Seonghwa and Hongjoong confirmed your suspicion. You sent them a reassuring text, apologizing for bailing on them and blaming it on your headache. Mingi was leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, and his feet crossed at the ankles. His eyes never left your hunched form. He was waiting — for a call, a sign, something that would tell him when to reach your side and offer his help.

In another life, you’d be flustered — happy, ecstatic that he was there, worried for your well-being, wanting to make you feel better. But the nagging thought of the situation — too perfect to be a coincidence — wouldn’t let you go. What were the odds of your soulmate and Mingi both being exposed to danger at the same time? How was it that Mingi’s body was void of bruises just as your soulometer stopped acting up? 

Licking your lips, you inhaled shakily and found Mingi’s gaze. The pull to be wrapped in his arms was strong, almost unbearable and you wondered if he felt it too. The need to run your fingers through his hair, to rest your forehead at the junction of his neck and shoulder while he soothingly rubbed circles in your back. The feelings were more intense than back in high school, now full of want and need that you couldn’t satisfy by being in his mere presence. However, you were willing to put it aside in exchange for your question marks to disappear and there was only one person who could give it to you.

Your voice was raspy and weak, breaking mid-sentence as the words struggled to escape. With every ounce of vulnerability, you asked him, “Are we soulmates?”

Mingi didn’t move for a moment. He looked to the side, his jaw clenching as he uncrossed his arms and gripped the edge of the counter. It was inevitable, really. The question was bound to come up sooner or later, and he wasn’t a fool. Mingi didn’t live in a bubble separate from his worries. They were woven into his everyday life, especially since you’d crossed paths again after all these years, with you at the center of them. The anxiety hovered around you like planets orbiting the sun — always there, needing you to survive, but never able to get too close. Mingi never stopped thinking about you. Since your high school graduation, he’d found himself more often than not lying awake in the dead of night, thoughts circling back to you — wondering how you were, what you were doing, if you were happy. You had to be. Mingi only ever brought you pain and hurt, something he loathed himself for. The lies and secrets were the main reason behind it all, but the icing on the cake was his devotion to boxing, which had long surpassed his love for you. At least, in your eyes, because that was what he had allowed you to see — what he wanted you to think. It would make the end of your relationship easier, giving him a lie to hold onto instead of the truth.

But Mingi was tired of lying. He didn’t plan to re-enter your life to keep the same pattern in motion. He wanted to start a-new and whether he deserved it or not was up for debate, but he was going to try. For you. For himself. For your relationship.

“Yes.”

Then it all just stopped. The beat of your heart filled the silence of the world. The flicker of emotions was instant and irregular — shifting from relief and happiness to disbelief and anger. You couldn’t form a single thought, much less say anything. What could one say in such a moment? Realising your first and only love was more than that and had slipped away. The never ending fear and regret of losing the sole good thing in your life washing out to nothing, leaving you empty. It was good and bad. A war broke out in your head, scrambling to come to an understanding, but the tear between the two sides was so grave it was starting to hurt. The relief of finding your soulmate clashed with the idea that he was right beneath your nose this entire time, purposefully avoiding you for who knows how long.

A sting burned behind your eyes followed by a heavy pressure. Your throat closed up and yet you managed to get your question out.

“How… How long have you known?”

Mingi heaved in a breath. The weight of the situation pressed harshly against his chest as he realized the bear trap he set up years ago was beneath his foot.

“A little after the start of our third year in high school… When you were rushed to the hospital.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Someone thought it would be a funny prank to leave an opened peanut-chocolate bar in your locker, completely disregarding the gravity of the situation. That was almost a month after his eighteenth birthday — the day his soulometer was permanently injected into his body. Out of those three years, you dated for one and a half, and the last stretch of your relationship was apparently built on secrets and lies because he knew. 

He knew and didn’t tell you.

You rose from your seat, your expression shifting from disbelief to frustration. Your brows furrowed, and your lips were pressed tightly together in fury. Mingi had never seen you so angry — not even when some older kids were making fun of Hongjoong for his height or liking boys.

“Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me about it? Mingi, we broke up and you didn’t think to tell me we were, are soulmates?!”

Your voice jumped from a whisper to full-out yelling, loud enough for your neighbors above and below to indulge in the dramatics, and Mingi flinched at the sudden rise in volume. A fire spread from his core to the rest of his body, growing hotter and more intense with each passing second. Despite how familiar the sensation was, it wasn’t his. You were angry beyond salvaging and no amount of water could douse the flames. 

Mingi’s chest tightened as the answer to your long-awaited question tumbled out of him. “Because you deserved a better soulmate!” 

Like that, a weight lifted off his shoulders. There was a very long pause where you just stared at each other, both waiting for the other to speak.

“Excuse me?” It was meek, barely above a whisper as you spoke and a sharp, breaking sound echoed in Mingi’s heart, like porcelain shattering. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Mingi hesitated, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. You seized the opportunity to step in front of him. Unshed tears lined your waterline, one blink away from spilling over and kissing your burning cheeks. Mingi wasn’t any better. His eyes were glossed over and throat was dry. His fingers turned an alarming shade of white from gripping the counter, the veins in his hands more defined than ever.

“Why?” 

“You weren’t happy with me…” Mingi’s voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes as he struggled to continue. “W–with me boxing… and I… I wasn’t ready to give up on that. I thought you d–deserved some happiness before you realized you were stuck with me f–forever.” His words came out choked, his chest heaving as the tears finally spilled over.

The salty tears extinguished the fire that had been brewing in you. What had felt like flames of hell now shrunk to nothing more than a spark, ready to fade. You reached out, your hands trembling slightly as you cupped his face, gently wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“You thought I wouldn’t choose you? Mingi, I was never asking you to give up on what you love. I just couldn’t stand seeing you put yourself in danger, not knowing if you’d come back to me… alive.” Your heart ached as the soulometer inside you throbbed painfully, a constant reminder of how deeply connected you two were. 

Mingi had grown up in a boxing family. His father was a boxer, and his grandfathers on both sides were boxers too. It was only natural for the only child of the Song family to step into his relatives’ shoes and fall in love with the gruesome sport. However, it wasn’t the officiated matches or light sparring during training that had you worrying for Mingi. A little after Mingi turned eighteen, he realized that his talent could not only bring him medals, but money. A great sum of money, actually. 

As the fortune started to come his way, you began to notice the change in him. He wasn’t just fighting for the thrill or the legacy anymore — it had become a business. The sport he had once loved, the sport that had connected him to his family, was now something more — something dangerous, something that had started to consume him. You watched as he took on bigger opponents, harsher training regimens and increasingly dangerous matches, all in pursuit of a prize that was slowly tearing away at the person you once knew. 

You didn’t mean to put him in a tight spot, to choose between his first serious girlfriend and the illegal business that kept him independent. You also didn’t expect him to choose the latter. The decision stung more than you anticipated, the weight of it sinking in as you realized what it said about his priorities. 

You were both young and foolish back then, believing the world was beneath your feet and that one wrong decision could crumble it all. Had you known you were bonded, tied together for all eternity, you would’ve approached him differently and you certainly never would’ve let him go.

“I didn’t know about the soulmate bond. I didn’t know you knew... and you still let me walk away. You were willing to let me go without telling me the truth? How could you think I’d leave you forever, knowing we were meant to be?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I–I swear, I wanted to tell you. So many times. Every time I’d walk past your posters or hear about you from our mutual friends, I’d be one click away from calling you, but…”

The apology hung in the air like a weight, thick with guilt and regret. His voice trembled, each word choked back by the raw emotion clawing at him. The tears streamed down his face, unchecked. He turned his face slightly, the side of his cheek brushing against your palm, as if trying to hide from the pain, but your touch remained steady. You held him there, gently, as his sorrow poured out.

“Don’t hold back, Mingi. I’m not going anywhere, not now, not tomorrow, not ever… So please, talk to me.”

His chest hitched as he struggled to breathe, the weight of the words, the silence and the years of unsaid things crashing over him. Mingi knew he owed you this. An explanation, a reason for his sudden pull back all those years ago. He heaved in a breath and allowed the truth to spill.

“I just… I couldn’t,” he whispered. “Every time, I’d think about it and then–then I’d back out. I thought it was better this way. I thought maybe you’d be better off without knowing… that I wasn’t good enough, that I’d only mess things up. Jongho said you were ha–happy and I didn’t want to ruh–ruin that. ”

“You could never–”

“But I would!” He didn’t mean to shout, but the frustration and sadness, locked up for so long, didn’t hesitate to seize the first opening it saw. “I was still fighting… I never stopped. It only got worse after… after we broke up. The money was good, but the loneliness,” his voice wavered, “the loneliness was unbearable. The only time I ever felt anything was when I saw your face... or when I got beaten to hell.”

Your eyes darted around his face. Jumping from his eyes and lips to his nose and cheeks as if seeking a pressure point that would make all of his suffering evaporate into thin air. Mingi avoided your gaze and you massaged the apple of his cheek to catch his attention again. You never intended for the downfall of your relationship to put its claws in his back and leave a wound so grave it couldn’t heal on its own. In fact, you were so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t think to take a moment and wonder how it would affect him. The guilt festered in your bones like a leech refusing to let go. 

“I never realized how much you were carrying… I thought I was the one who was struggling, but maybe we both were. I’m sorry, Mings.”

“No.” 

He shook his head in disagreement and your hand fell from his face. The loss of warmth was close to painful and Mingi, not wanting to be apart from you any more than necessary, grabbed your hand and guided it down to his chest, placing your palm above his beating heart — the organ that pulsed in rhythm to your own. Your fingers twitch to grab his shirt, to claw out his heart and keep it in the safety of your hands. To shield it from hurt and pain and agony. You never wanted him to feel such anguish again and you certainly didn’t want to be the reason behind it either. It tore you from within and the emotion wasn’t even yours to begin with. 

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.”

“Mingi–”

“Stop it. You know if I’d just listened to you, if I’d stopped getting involved in stupid shit, none of this would’ve happened. There’s no one to blame but me.” 

Tears still rolled down his cheeks and clung onto his lashes, though his eyes were sharp and firm as if daring you to challenge his words. If there was one thing you’d learned during the few years you dated Mingi, it was that once his mind was made up, nothing could change it. 

“We are both at fault, love.” 

The pinched expression on his face crumbled at the familiar call of endearment. His mouth parted slightly, and a constellation twinkled in his eyes — a sight you had missed incredibly. A twinge of hope flickered to life — hope that you could once be again, despite his careless acts of selflessness. His focus shifted between your eyes and with shaking hands he gently cradled your face, his touch not lighter than a ticklish flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Your own hands found purchase on his waist, fingers looping through the pouch of his hoodie as you instinctively leaned into the gentle pressure of his caress.

Mingi wetted his lips and brows scrunched together in a pleading demeanor. Something was plaguing his mind again and you could feel the train of thought reach out and graze your own, as if wanting you to get a glimpse. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t pleasant either. It felt full, crowded.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Mings?”

“…You.” He took another breath, steadying himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I… May I… I want to kiss you.”

Perhaps you should’ve said no. Perhaps you should’ve ignored him sitting on the steps of your apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have let him back into your life at all. But the thought of telling him no — robbing yourself of the feel of Mingi’s lips against yours — burned like hot acid in your stomach. So you did the one thing you were best at when it came to him, you gave in to your heart's desire.

“Then kiss me.”

Mingi didn’t need to hear you say it twice before he pulled your face up to his, lips smashing together as a flood of emotions erupted with the kiss — the kind of feeling only a romantic gesture like this could bring. You rose onto your toes, your hands gripping his wrists as if to anchor yourself in the moment. A low rumble vibrated from the back of his throat and you pushed harder against him. The kiss was intoxicating, yet liberating at the same time. You swiped your tongue along his bottom lip and he wasted no time parting them for you. The heat between you both deepened and each moment felt like it stretched on forever, the world around you fading into the background. His fingers grazing the side of your face, pulled you impossibly closer, as if there was no space left for anything but this shared intimacy. 

The pounding of your heart filled your ears, a frantic rhythm that matched the urgency of his touch. You were caught in the gravity of the moment, caught between the need for air and the undeniable pull to stay, to keep kissing him like nothing else mattered and nothing mattered. Just you and him. 

You felt one of his hands slither down your spine, a trail of firecrackers following the wake of his fingertips and sending shivers down your body. You couldn’t pull away — not yet. Not when everything inside you was screaming for more. Mingi pushed you closer to him, chests touching and hips meeting in a delicious press, that radiated between you both, causing every nerve in your body to hum with anticipation. 

It was the need for oxygen that eventually broke you apart before the heated situation could be taken to the bedroom, with you pushed against the soft sheets and your legs tangling together. Your chests rose and fell in synchrony, trying to steady the breath that had been stolen in the heat of the moment. A crackle of electricity snapped around the room, the atmosphere still charged with the energy of your kiss, but both of you knew you couldn’t rush past this — there was so much more to say, the fact that you were soulmates, for one. 

Mingi rested his forehead against yours, his breath was warm against your skin, quick and shallow, mirroring your own racing pulse. His eyes searched yours with a mix of intensity and vulnerability. He whispered your name, as if unsure how to bridge the distance between the desire in his chest and the emotions that were beginning to surface.

“We are soulmates,” you whispered before he could say anything else. It was more of a statement, a wake-up call for you than a fact. Your gaze dropped to the strings of his hoodie, the intensity of his stare made your knees feel weak.

Mingi didn’t reply. He rubbed gentle circles over your blouse on your lower back, a relaxing motion. You didn’t need to hear him say the two worded apology, you felt it in his soft touches.

“It was you… every time my meter went up… it was you fighting.” 

He nodded, a solemn smile gracing his swollen lips. “Yes.” 

“...But it hasn’t… gone up since–”

“Since you found me outside your apartment,” he finished for you. “I stopped shortly after that. I– uh, I realized that I wanted you. Or, well, I always knew, but that… that confirmed it. Mmm, I knew, though, that if I wanted us to be together, I’d have to change– stop! I’d have to stop doing the thing that made me lose you in the first place.”

“So… what does that mean for us?”

“It means… that if you want me to, I’ll peel your oranges for the rest of our lives.”

You wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “Even the white bits?”

The corner of his lips curled up in a grin, giving a glimpse of his crooked front teeth, and his eyes lit up like the night sky in the countryside.

“Especially the white bits.”

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2025. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[girl-lostconnection]

Another one in addition to this because I need it

Husband!Kyle who diligently tracks your periods and notes the symptoms and takes note of which products work better for you. Pads or tampons or cups or anything at all. Whatever makes you comfortable, love.

Husband!Kyle who knows he needs to give you a little bit of space. When in more agitated state of yours induced with pain of your uterus shedding a lining and him making a loud noise with a spoon you send him a glare so scalding his tea doesn’t really feel hot anymore.

Husband!Kyle who just cleans the place. He opens the windows and mops the floors and does the laundry and brings you folded warm clothes to change into if you’d like. He washes the dishes while you are in the shower and changes sheets on the bed. He makes you tea and pulls out your favourite snack to bring it to you.

Husband!Kyle who knows how much you get annoyed by clutter and your house being messy. He also knows that you are in pain and exhausted from the start — you don’t have the energy to fix the thing, but it will bother you. He can’t have that.

Husband!Kyle who makes sure you don’t have to get up more than strictly necessary, that your book is close, that your phone is charged, that the snacks are right next to bed. Husband!Kyle who prides himself on knowing what you need and when you need it.

He is careful and gentle when you wiggle yourself in his arms and sigh in his neck, feeling as miserable as it gets but his palms on your back are godsend.

Husband!Kyle who coaxes you into taking painkillers one more time and softly squeezes your biceps when you do, his kiss behind your ear melting some of your spikes.

Husband!Kyle who orders food, glazing through your order because of course, he remembers it, darling. You didn’t marry him just cause he’s pretty, did you not?

Husband!Kyle who brings you a cup of ice cream wrapped in a warm towel. Because you are sensitive on your period, because the cup is too cold, because it’s going to upset you even if you aren’t going to say anything.

Husband!Kyle who smiles when after the first few days you come to him yourself, finally in a state where you can tolerate your husband squeezing you in hugs and manhandling you around the house. Husband!Kyle who can’t help but feel a little giddy when you hug him from behind and kiss his shoulders and say “thank you, Kyle”.

Husband!Kyle who leans into you, murmurs “it nothing, love”. But it’s not nothing. It’s everything.

It’s why he does it. It’s why he remembers your orders and your icks and your ticks.

Husband!Kyle who kisses your nose, grinning so wide his eyes crinkle in the corners with the joy of it.

Husband!Kyle who doesn’t mind you being cranky or silent or needing more space than usually. After all you always come back to him.

After all, he knows you better than anyone else.

And that’s how it’s going to stay.

[gothamite-rambler]

Barbara answered her phone while juggling her main job in IT security, yawning from a long night of work and a lack of sleep.

Barbara (typing while yawning): Hello?

Bruce (urgency in his tone): I need your help with something of great importance.

Barbara (intrigued): I'm listening.

Bruce: I need you to bring me coffee.

Barbara's fingers paused mid-type, her brows furrowing in confusion at what she just heard.

Barbara: What?

Bruce: Coffee. Americano.

Barbara (reeling): I'm in the middle of encrypting algorithms at work. I can’t just leave to get you coffee.

Bruce (demanding): You can and you will. Because I said so!

Barbara (whispering to herself): Bitch… what did you just demand of me?

Dick (overhearing the call): Oh no.

Barbara (enraged): You must be out of your damn mind! I spend endless hours making sure your business stays afloat and your kids don't end up more screwed than a two-dollar hooker. I sacrifice my sleep relaying directions, and you want me to drop everything for coffee? Who do you think you are?! I can call my dad—

Bruce (interrupting as she gives him the riot act): Right, my bad. I can get my own coffee. I appreciate everything you do.

Bruce ended the call abruptly, sighing as he rubbed his forehead in frustration.

Jason (teasing while reading): You didn’t see that coming, did you?

Bruce: Nope. I need coffee to function… Dick—

Dick (adding extra brown sugar to his drink): I’m not going back out; I already got my boba.

Bruce: Jason—

Jason (glaring at the man): I'll spit in it.

Feeling defeated, Bruce rested his head on the table with a muffled groan. At that moment, Tim entered the cave holding his own coffee.

Tim: That new café is so much easier to order from compared to Starbucks.

Without hesitation, Bruce walked over, snatched the coffee from Tim’s hand, and returned to his desk, taking a long sip.

Tim (perturbed, eyebrow twitching): I will fucking end you.

Bruce: That’s a problem for future Bruce to worry about later.

Dick: You can be a headache sometimes.

[minyoongisnewthing]

Han river lullaby chapter two | myg

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, exs to lovers, eventual smut, idol!au, co parents, second chance romance

Chapter two content warning: mention of corporate manipulation/control, emotional confrontation, mild swearing

word count: 5.6k approximately

Authors notes: thank you sincerely for the love and support you have shown this story so far it has meant so much to me, it was a much needed confidence boost. Apologies to my boy Namjoon you don’t get paid enough to be readers and Yoongi’s therapists. Please feel free to drop any feedback in the comments

A few days later marked the start of your much-needed week long break after working twelve grueling days in a row. 

You woke up with Han wrapped around your arm, his little body sleeping and warm against yours as he snored softly. 

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across his features. 

Smiling, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before carefully slipping out of bed, making sure not to wake him.

Downstairs, you set to work making pancakes, knowing that the scent would lure him down in minutes. 

The familiar routine helped calm your nerves about what you planned to do today - the conversation you could no longer put off. 

Sure enough, just as you plated the first stack, you heard the telltale sound of small feet padding across the floor.

"Morning, bubba," you greeted him with a smile, turning just in time to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes, his hair an adorable mess of soft curls that reminded you so much of Yoongi's bed head.

"Morning," he mumbled back, still groggy but clearly intrigued by breakfast. You lifted him up and placed him in his chair before setting a small plate of cut-up pancakes in front of him.

"What do you want to do today? Before you go to auntie Mya’s house?" you asked as you poured some syrup over his food, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety churning in your stomach.

Han barely took a moment to think before his face lit up. "Can we go to the park!" he exclaimed, his excitement muffled by a mouthful of pancake.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Chew your food, Han," you reminded gently, wiping syrup off his chin. 

The simple gesture made your heart clench - how many moments like this had Yoongi missed?

"Sorry," he said, swallowing quickly before grinning at you - that gummy smile so like his father's it almost took your breath away.

The idea of the park sounded good, a chance to give Han one last carefree morning before everything changed. 

After breakfast, you both bundled up in coats and beanies and set off down the street. Han immediately took off running the moment you arrived, joining a few other kids in the playground. 

You settled onto a bench, watching him with a fond smile that didn't quite mask the weight in your chest. Despite the warmth in your heart at seeing your son so happy, a familiar guilt pressed down on you. 

You knew what you had to do. What you'd promised yourself - and Namjoon - you would do today. No more waiting, no more stalling.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your chat with Yoongi before you could talk yourself out of it.

Y/N: Are you resting like the doctor ordered?

You hit send, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Yoongi: Don't worry, Hobi and Namjoon made sure I am. Why the check-up? Don't believe I'd follow orders?

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head before replying.

Y/N: Was thinking of stopping by, if you're up for a visit?

A few moments passed, each second stretching like an eternity as you watched the typing bubble appear and disappear, the reappear only to disappear again, finally.

Yoongi: What, you visit all your patients after hours?

Y/N: Only the stubborn ones who need extra monitoring.

Yoongi: I'm wounded. But yeah, I'm at home with Namjoon, still being good and resting like ordered.

Y/N: Perfect, do you actually mind if I stop by?

Yoongi: [Address] - Hannam-dong. Door code: 0923

You stared at the screen, barely believing it. He was letting you in - literally and figuratively - and you were about to change everything.

That's how you found yourself standing in front of Yoongi's apartment after dropping Han off with Mya, your favorite nurse and close friend. Your palms were sweating as you tried to work up the courage to knock, the weight of Han's excited "Bye, Eomma!" still echoing in your ears. 

This was it. You were about to lay everything out, every painful truth, and you had no idea how he would react. Taking a deep breath, you finally knocked.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing Namjoon. His blonde hair was slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it while working - a habit he'd never broken. 

His brows furrowed in quiet surprise as he took in the sight of you standing there, though you could see in his deep brown eyes he'd been expecting this. He leaned against the doorframe, his tall frame somehow both imposing and gentle at once.

"You're finally doing this?" he asked, voice careful, his dimples appearing briefly despite the seriousness of the moment.

You nodded, fingers twisting together nervously. "Yeah. You're right, for both of them, I have to."

Namjoon studied you for a second before stepping aside. "He's upstairs in his room. Do you want me to stay?"

You swallowed, nodding hard. "Please, Joon. I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack."

He gave you a reassuring nod. "You can do this, Y/N. I'll be here, for both of you."

You followed him through the apartment, the space as calm and minimalistic as you'd imagined Yoongi's home would be. The walls were lined with awards and platinum records, reminders of everything he'd achieved.

Namjoon led you to the bedroom door before pausing.

"I'll be close," he said softly before stepping back.

Gathering every ounce of courage you had left, you knocked.

“Yeah?” came Yoongi’s voice from inside.

Slowly, you pushed the door open and poked your head in. He was sitting up in bed, lounging comfortably in a dark shirt and grey sweatpants, the ever-present silver chain around his neck.

His dark hair falling over his forehead in careless waves. His feline eyes met yours the moment you stepped inside, sharpening with something unreadable—intense, unwavering, and just a little too knowing.

"Hey, Yoongi," you said hesitantly, the words barely above a whisper.

His expression softened—just a little. "Hey yourself." But even as he said it, you could see it in his gaze: curiosity, the ghost of warmth… but most of all, confusion.

You moved toward him, your hands twisting together as you sat at the edge of his bed. The room felt too quiet, the air too thick with something unspoken. Your stomach churned, the weight of what you were about to say pressing heavily against your ribs.

"Look, Yoongi… we need to talk."

The small, familiar smile on his lips faltered. His eyes sharpened with cautious tension, his body going still. "Okay…."

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself, but nothing could have prepared you for this moment. Your fingers found the edge of his blanket, needing something to ground you.

"Just… just know that I never wanted to hurt you."

His shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening. "Y/N." His voice was lower now, edged with something dangerous. "What's going on?"

Your fingers clenched together, nails biting into your skin. There was no easy way to say it.

"Around a month after I left, I… I found out I was pregnant."

Yoongi stilled.

The breath he'd been about to take caught in his throat, his body going rigid as if you had physically struck him. 

The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating. You saw it—the moment your words reached him, the precise second his world cracked open.

You forced yourself to keep going.

"I gave birth to a little boy," you whispered, your voice unsteady. "His name is Han and… and, fuck, Yoongi, he has your smile. Your eyes. Even your damn nose."

Silence. A silence heavier than anything you'd ever known stretched between you.

Yoongi’s hands, which had been resting in his lap, curled into fists over the blanket, his knuckles white. The veins along the backs of his hands stood out, a stark contrast against the smooth, pale skin. His long, slender fingers twitched slightly, as if resisting the urge to move. 

His breathing was uneven, like he was struggling to remember how. His voice, when it finally came, was barely a whisper.

"I have a son?"

It was the break in his voice that shattered something inside you.

Your throat burned as you nodded. "Yes."

He exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with an unsteady breath. He dragged a trembling hand through his dark hair, gripping it tightly like he was holding himself together by sheer force. 

When he finally looked at you, his gaze was dark, unreadable—but the hurt in them was unmistakable.

"You—" His voice wavered, raw with disbelief. "You kept my son from me?"

You swallowed hard, guilt clawing at your ribs. "I thought I was doing the best thing for both of us—"

"The best thing?" His voice cut through yours like a blade, sharp and filled with something frighteningly close to betrayal. "For both of us?"

You flinched, gripping the edge of the bed as the weight of his anger crashed into you.

"I know you're angry—"

"Damn fucking right I'm angry." His voice shook under the weight of his emotions. His hands pressed against his forehead as he exhaled harshly. He shook his head, still trying to process. When he looked at you again, there was something raw, something broken in his expression.

"You kept my son from me."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't even an accusation—it was a wound laid bare.

You flinched but refused to look away. "I thought I was doing what was best—"

"So you said," his voice rose, something sharp laced within it. "But for who, Y/N? For me? For you? Because it sure as hell wasn't what was best for him."

Your breath caught, guilt twisting like a knife in your ribs. "I—"

He cut in, his tone almost hollow. "I reconciled with the fact I was the only one who lost something when we walked away." His eyes burned into yours, dark and unreadable. "But the whole time, you had my son."

His voice cracked on the last word, and it shattered something inside you.

"Yoongi…" You swallowed hard, trying to find steady ground, but there was none. "I wanted to tell you. I swear, I did. But after everything, I—"

"You what?" he demanded, leaning forward. "You decided for me? You thought I didn't deserve to know?"

You let out a shaky breath, eyes stinging. "You left first."

Yoongi stilled.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of those three words settled between you like an open wound, bleeding and raw.

And then he laughed—a hollow, bitter sound that sent a chill down your spine.

"So that's what this is," he muttered, shaking his head. "Punishment."

Your heart clenched. "That's not—"

"You wanted me to hurt like you did," he said, voice dropping into something quieter, dangerous. "Well, congratulations, Y/N. You fucking achieved it didn’t you."

His words knocked the breath out of you.

"Do you think it was easy for me?" Your voice cracked through the room, your own anger rising like a flame catching air. "Do you think I didn't hurt too? That I didn't spend nights staring at my phone, wanting to call you, to tell you? To break down and beg you to come see me."

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the force of your words. The dark irises, usually guarded and unreadable, flickered with something unspoken, their depth momentarily exposed. 

A faint crease formed between his brows, his smooth, pale skin taut with tension. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, the muscles in his jaw tightened, a subtle but telling sign of restraint.

"You stopped reaching out first," you continued, your voice thick with pain and accusation. "You never truly fought for us, Yoongi. You just—let go. So I thought that meant I had to let go too."

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his hands curling tighter at his sides. His laugh was sharp, disbelieving, barely contained between clenched teeth. 

"It wasn't that simple, Y/N," he bit out. "The company—their rules—I couldn't. Not if I wanted to keep my career, to keep you safe!." 

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "I thought…" 

His voice faltered, and for the first time, you saw it. Regret. The weight of what he'd done too. The hurt he didn’t even consider he’d caused. 

"I thought letting you go was the best thing I could do for you. To protect you."

You stared at him, realization washing over you like ice water. The silence. The distance. It hadn't been indifference. It had been sacrifice. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

You let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "The fucking company," you spat. "That's rich. Enjoying the view from that fucking high horse, Min?" The visceral hurt ripped open, the years of heartache spilling out like poison in your veins. 

"You decided that for me. Just like I decided for you. You didn't even give me a choice, Yoongi. You just walked away."

His nostrils flared, his breath unsteady. "My view's just the same as yours, on your own high horse, sweetheart." He hissed the old term of endearment, sounding like venom on his lips.

"You did the same fucking thing, didn't you?" His voice was low, dangerous now. "You took my son from me. His first cries, his first steps, his first fucking words!"

Your vision blurred with unshed tears.

"You should have told me," he snapped, his voice breaking slightly on the words. "You should have fucking told me."

Your chin trembled, the fight leaving you, making way for the only emotion you had left: exhaustion. 

"You're right, Yoongi. I can't change my choice, I wish I could. But maybe when we're both less heated, you'll understand why I did, help me understand your choices now." Your tears begin to slide down your cheek.

Yoongi's expression cracked, something devastated flickering in his eyes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his voice raw when he finally spoke.

"I was scared, Y/N," he admitted, the confession shaking. "Just like you were. Scared of losing everything I'd worked for. Scared of losing you."

"Fucking terrified of the pressure we were suddenly under, the conditions we had to live in." His eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You don't think I thought about you every day?" His voice rose slightly, sounding on the edge of mania. 

"Do you know how many times I got caught sneaking off just to try and call you? How many nights I wanted to just throw it all away and come see you?" 

His breathing turned ragged. "Do you have any fucking idea how much it took for me to let you walk out of that apartment that morning? To smile at you like I was okay?"

He took a deep shuddering breath, trying to recenter himself. "It took everything in me not to chase after you, not to beg you to stay."

The memory of that morning flooded your mind, as vivid as if it were yesterday...

The early morning light painted Yoongi's small apartment in soft golden hues, making everything feel dreamlike and fragile. 

Your bags sat by the door - simple things that somehow held the weight of your entire world shifting.

In these last precious moments before your taxi arrived, you stood wrapped in each other's arms, whispering promises, promises of making the distance work, of visits when time allowed, into the quiet morning air.

"You sure you don't want me to drop you at the airport?" Yoongi murmured into your hair, his arms tightening around you as if trying to memorize how you felt against him.

"I'm sure, Yoon," you managed a smile, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "You'll be late for dance practice, and I'm not having Hobi mad at me because your ass is late."

His chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, but it held a note of something fragile, something breaking. You snuggled closer, breathing in his familiar scent - coffee and cologne and something uniquely Yoongi that had become home to you.

"I'll call you every chance I can, okay?" he promised, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"I know," you whispered, looking up to meet his gaze. The love and fear you saw there mirrored your own.

You shared one final, devastating kiss before your phone buzzed - your taxi was here.

Your breath caught in your throat as the memory faded, bringing you back to the present moment.

"But in the end..." His voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with years of regret. "I lost you anyway."

Tears burned at your eyes.

"I didn't come here to fight with you, Yoon," you finally admitted, voice tired and aching. "We both fucked up. We both made mistakes. And now here we are. Hurt. Angry. And too late."

Yoongi's gaze met yours, something shattered in the way he looked at you.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice hollow. "Too late."

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. His voice trembled when he finally asked, "Can I meet him?"

Your chest clenched painfully.

"Of course you can," you replied instantly, your voice soft, careful. "Would... would you like to see a photo of him now?"

He nodded, and with trembling fingers, you reached for your phone. You pulled up a photo taken just that morning—Han in the park, beaming, his dark eyes crinkling just like Yoongi's when he laughed.

Yoongi took the phone from you carefully, as if afraid the moment might shatter in his hands. He stared at the screen, and you watched as something in him completely unraveled.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice breaking.

His pale fingers hovered over the screen, tracing Han's face without touching it, his expression torn between awe and devastation.

"Mother Nature really did one hell of a copy-paste job on him, didn't she?"

Despite everything, a choked laugh escaped you.

Yoongi's eyes flickered back up to you, searching, uncertain. "Y/N..." His voice was quieter now, filled with something fragile. "I would've made it work."

You closed your eyes briefly, exhaling shakily.

Finally, he exhaled slowly. "I... I need to see him, to know him beyond just a picture," he said, determination laced with vulnerability.

"I have the next few days free," you say gently, watching Yoongi carefully. "I can bring him over whenever you're ready."

There's a beat of silence before you add, "Also, that bloody chain—let me fix it. It's annoying me."

Yoongi lets out an unexpected laugh, the warm sound catching you off guard. You raise an eyebrow at him in question.

"You never could keep your hands off me. Don't lie," he quips, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The familiarity of his teasing makes something in your chest loosen. It doesn't erase the pain of the past, but it's something—something small, something hopeful.

"Fuck off," you chuckle, shaking your head as you step closer, fingers carefully adjusting it to sit properly against his shirt. He stays still, letting you work, his eyes watching you with something unreadable.

As you step away again, the conversation drifts to Han—his little quirks, the way he scrunches his nose when he's thinking, his stubborn streak that's so clearly inherited from both of you.

"He's so smart," you say with a proud smile, your heart swelling just talking about him. "He loves music already - always dancing and humming little tunes he makes up."

Yoongi hums, glancing down at the photo of Han still open on your phone. "Of course he’s smart. He has Min DNA after all." he says matter-of-factly.

You barely contain the scoff that leaves you, but there's no real annoyance—just an old, familiar fondness creeping in.

"He's obsessed with the piano at my friend's house," you continue softly. "Can't keep him away from it. And he has this habit of staying up late, no matter what I do - just like someone else I know."

Yoongi's expression softens, a mix of pride and pain crossing his features. "What else?" he asks, shuffling forward towards you, voice barely above a whisper, like he's trying to drink in every detail.

"He's incredibly stubborn when he wants to be. Especially when he’s over tired," you say with a small laugh. "But he's also so gentle. So caring. He notices when anyone's sad and tries to make them feel better. Just yesterday, he gave his favorite toy to a crying kid at the park."

You watch as Yoongi absorbs each detail, his fingers still hovering over the photo on your phone. "Does he..." he hesitates, swallowing hard. "Does he ever ask about me?"

Your heart clenches. "Yeah, he does. More and more, He sees other kids with their parents and gets curious. I've told him… that while his appa loves him very much, grown-ups sometimes have complicated situations."

Yoongi's breath catches, and he nods slowly, processing. 

After you agree to bring Han by tomorrow, you tell Yoongi you need to go pick him up. He nods, still looking lost in thought, but there's a softness in his gaze that wasn't there before.

As you step into the lounge, you find Namjoon sitting on the couch, book in hand. He looks up as you enter, a small smirk forming.

"I got worried for a moment there when all the yelling stopped," he teases, dimples on full display.

You scoff but smile back. "We called a temporary truce."

"Progress," he nods approvingly.

"We have organised for me to bring Han by tomorrow," you tell him. "If you wanna be here to supervise the visit." You say it lightly, but there's an underlying truth to it—you don't know how emotional tomorrow will be.

Namjoon closes his book and stretches. "I'll be here," he assures you, voice steady.

Leaning against the wall, you sigh. "How did we get here, Joon?" you whisper, voice barely audible over the soft hum of the city below. "How did we let it get this bad?"

Namjoon sighs, putting the book down beside him. "You mean you and Yoongi?"

You nod, your fingers gripping your knees. "We loved each other." Your voice cracks on the last word, and you shake your head as if trying to make sense of it.

"So how the hell did we end up as two people who just walked away? Who let everything go and ended up like... this—with so much pain and miscommunication between us?"

Namjoon is quiet for a long moment. Then he sighs.

"Because it was never just you two," he murmurs.

You frown, looking at him. "What do you mean?"

Namjoon exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the chair. His expression was unreadable, but there was something haunted in his eyes.

"The company, it wasn't just an excuse, Y/N," he said. "You knew they had rules about dating, but you don't know the extent of it. The control, the manipulation—it wasn't just a policy. It was a constant, looming, very real threat."

You swallowed, uneasy. "I knew it was strict, but..."

Namjoon let out a humorless chuckle. "Strict? Y/N, we used to have random phone checks. Random room checks. Managers would come in, take our devices, search our belongings all without warning, and comb through everything. Texts, call logs, even our search history."

He shook his head, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he continued.

"If they found anything suspicious, anything that hinted at a relationship, it wasn't just a scolding—it was a warning. And that's the tip of the iceberg honestly."

Your stomach turned. You knew about the company's grip, but hearing the details made your blood run cold.

"They used to tell us, over and over, that everything we had could be taken away in an instant. Our careers, our reputations. All of it, gone." 

Namjoon glanced at you, his gaze heavy. "And Yoongi? He was already seen as the difficult one. The cold one, the one most likely to push back against that control."

"If they had even a hint of something that could be spun as 'unprofessional'—especially a relationship—he knew they wouldn't hesitate to make an example out of him."

You blinked rapidly, your chest tightening. "They really had that much control over everything?"

Namjoon's lips pressed into a thin line. "You have no idea." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "We weren't just scared of losing our jobs, Y/N. We were scared of losing everything. They had us believing that if we stepped out of line, we'd be ripped apart—no second chances."

You swallowed hard, trying to process it all. "He told me it was because he was afraid?"

Namjoon nodded. "Not just afraid. Convinced. Convinced that staying with you would ruin you both. And Yoongi..." He hesitated before continuing, voice softer now. 

"He's always been the type to shoulder things alone. To suffer in silence if he thinks it'll protect the people he loves."

Your throat tightened. "He thought leaving me was protecting me. Just like I was protecting him."

Namjoon's expression was pained. "Yeah."

You exhaled shakily, rubbing your temples. "I hate that I understand it. I hate that I can see why he did it, why I did what I did, and it still doesn't make any of this hurt any less."

Namjoon looked at you, his eyes showing wisdom beyond his years. "Because understanding the past doesn't erase the damage it left behind. You both made choices based on fear. And now, you're left with the consequences."

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, and you laughed bitterly. "So what do we do now, Joon?"

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "That's up to you and Yoongi.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, your mind spinning with everything Namjoon had just told you. The weight of it pressed down on your chest—everything Yoongi had gone through, the suffocating grip they had on him. On all of them.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You wanna know how bad it got?"

You looked at him warily. "I think I already do."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You don't." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was quieter now, heavy with something distant, something painful.

"There was one time—about two months after you left—when Yoongi got caught trying to contact you, after he had already gotten in shit for doing it the times before."

Your breath hitched. "What?"

Namjoon nodded. "It was after a long schedule, late as hell. We were back at the dorm, overworked and beyond hungry, I walked past his room, saw the light on under his door. I didn't think much of it at first—until I heard his voice."

You swallowed hard. "He was calling me?"

Namjoon gave you a pointed look. "Trying to." 

He exhaled. "I don't know what happened. Maybe one of the managers was already suspicious, maybe they were just being extra paranoid that night. Either way, someone must've been watching him, because before he could even get through, the door slammed open."

Your stomach twisted.

"They took his phone. Took all our phones, actually, under the excuse of a 'security check.' But they already knew. They already saw."

You couldn't breathe. "What did they do?"

Namjoon hesitated, then said, "They pulled him into a meeting the next day. I don't know exactly what was said, but when he came back, he looked..." 

He trailed off, jaw tightening. "Defeated. Like they'd ripped something out of him. He barely spoke for days after that. Just threw himself into work, into writing. It was like he was trying to drown himself in anything that wasn't you."

Your hands trembled as you hugged yourself, nausea creeping into your throat.

"They threatened him, didn't they?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Namjoon nodded slowly. "Probably, with everything in their arsenal designed to hurt him."

A sharp sob threatened to rise in your chest, but you forced it down, biting the inside of your cheek.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, staring down at your hands as Namjoon's words settled deep into your chest, heavy and unshakable.

A memory surfaced, unbidden.

"I remember that day," you murmured, voice distant. "I was in the middle of a finals exam. My phone was on silent, stuffed in my bag. When I finished, I checked and saw a few missed calls from him. I thought it was my shot to tell him about Han, about how much I missed him. I thought if he's finally got time after a few weeks, I'll take it!"

Namjoon watched you carefully, his expression unreadable.

"I called back," you whispered, feeling the ache of that moment as if it had just happened. "But he didn't answer." You let out a shaky breath. "I tried again. And again. But nothing."

You lifted your gaze to Namjoon, your eyes stinging. "Now I guess I know why."

His face softened with something like understanding, but he said nothing.

That night, you had sat on the edge of your bed, gripping your phone, staring at Yoongi's name on the screen, wondering what had changed. Wondering why, after a few weeks of silence, he had reached out—only to disappear again. 

You had told yourself it didn't matter. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he had come to his senses and realized there was nothing left to say. That the relationship had run its natural course.

But now...

Now you know the truth. Yoongi had tried, tried more than you knew. And they had taken that from him. From both of you.

You sucked in a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep it together, but Namjoon's next words cut through to your heart.

"You spent all this time thinking he didn't care enough," he said quietly. "And he spent all this time thinking he had no choice but to let you go."

A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, thick with disbelief and regret. "What a fucking mess we made, huh."

Namjoon gave you a wry, knowing look. "Yeah. But that doesn't mean you can't fix it."

Your breath came out unsteady. "Why didn't he ever tell me?"

Namjoon gave you a small, sad smile. "Because he didn't want you to know what he went through. He didn't want you to carry that weight."

Tears blurred your vision.

"I thought he just gave up on me," you admitted, voice breaking.

Namjoon shook his head. "Yoongi never gave up on you, Y/N. He just didn't know how to hold on without hurting you."

You wiped at your eyes quickly, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. "And now? Now that we've both hurt each other?"

Namjoon sighed, leaning back against the couch. "That's the thing about love, isn't it? It's not about never hurting each other. It's about what you do after."

Silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words.

Finally, you whispered, "I don't know how to fix this, Joon."

He gave you a small smile. "You don't have to figure it all out right now." His gaze was steady, reassuring. "Just start with tomorrow. Start with being good co-parents to Han."

Tomorrow. When Yoongi would meet his son for the first time.

You exhaled shakily, nodding. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

Later that night, after dinner and a bath, you sit Han on your lap, brushing a hand through his soft hair. The weight of him against you feels both comforting and terrifying, knowing how much his world is about to change.

"Han, baby," you say gently, drawing his attention. "Remember when you told Eomma you thought about your appa?"

He nods, big, curious eyes watching you, looking up at you with such innocent trust.

"How would you like to meet him tomorrow?"

There's a beat of silence as his little brain processes your words. Then, his eyes go wide with excitement.

"Yes, please!" he exclaims, bouncing slightly in your lap. "Really, Eomma? Really?"

Your heart swells, relief washing over you. If there was ever a sign that you were making the right decision, this was it. You hug Han close, kissing his temple.

"Okay, baby," you whisper, holding him just a little tighter. "Tomorrow, you'll meet your appa."

That night, as you watch Han sleep, your mind drifts to another lazy night, years ago...

The soft strumming of guitar strings filled your small apartment, mixing with the soft moonlight streaming through the windows. You were sprawled across your couch, textbooks scattered around you, but your attention kept drifting to Yoongi.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, an old guitar in his lap, dark hair falling into his eyes as he worked through a melody. He was wearing one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, that silver chain glinting at his neck.

"You're staring again," he murmured without looking up, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Am not," you protested, even as you continued watching his fingers move across the strings. "I'm studying."

"Oh yeah?" He glanced up then, eyes twinkling. "What chapter are you on?"

The memory fades as you brush Han's hair from his forehead, seeing so much of Yoongi in his peaceful sleeping face. Tomorrow would change everything for him, but looking at your son now, you know it's worth whatever pain might come.

Because Han deserves to know his father. And Yoongi deserves to know his son.

As you drift off to sleep, you can almost hear the echo of that old guitar, mixing with the sound of your son's steady breathing, creating a melody of what was and what could be.

Tomorrow would be the beginning of something new—something scary and uncertain, but necessary. For all of you.

tag list: @busanbby-jjk @jajabro @kam9404 @yoongiiuu93 @julseka07 @tea4sykes @marihoneywk @maryhopemei @sanarin @misschelliejeon @boraluv @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne, @hyuninslutbbgirl , @Granataepfelchen

[bekkathyst]

Big Crystal & Jewelry Sale

If you're looking for a deal on some crystals or witchy jewelry, I'm going to run some sales that you might be interested in! As you may have previously read, my phone broke (again ugh) and this time I can't fix it, so I need to get a new refurbished one. So anyway I'll be having some deals in my shop to raise funds for a new phone since I do basically run almost my whole business from my phone lol.

Here's what I'm doing!

Double Value Mystery Boxes

If you like a surprise, a mystery box might be fun for you! I normally just have normal crystal boxes, but since I have a ton of crystals for making jewelry (like cabochons and beads) I thought why not make a creator's mystery box as well! And for the deal, I'll be doing double value boxes. So if you buy a $100 box, it will be $200 worth of crystals (at their normal retail value in my shop). For more info on how the boxes work, be sure to read the listing descriptions. And to get the double deal, there's no code or anything needed, I'm just going it automatically for all mystery boxes ordered, and I'm also going to include the boxes that sold in the last couple of days that haven't shipped yet.

Regular Mystery Boxes

Creator Mystery Box

Sale on Jewelry & Other Crystals

For everything else in the shop (aside from custom jewelry and the mystery boxes, since they're already double value) I made a coupon code. This is perfect for if you want to pick up one of my already made handmade jewelry pieces or if you just like picking out specific crystals.

The coupon code is GEOSALE for 35% off

Custom Made Jewelry

And finally, I still have slots for custom wire wrapped pendants available, but the coupon does not apply to them since they're made to order and take a lot of time. But if you're still interested anyway, you can see them here!

Custom Wire Wraps

And I will also probably be posting some things here on tumblr tomorrow (Saturday, March 29th) in just an effort to clear space for my next shipment and raise some extra funds.

Shares are super appreciated; you all are awesome and I truly appreciate the support! I really love my work and I'd rather be swamped in work than not lol

[jeankluv]

The tale of the fox and the knight - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 04

summary: You have been living all your life in almost isolation due to your true nature, one your parents want to hide and protect you from anyone finding it. But when the spring of your 20 year your parents grant you the wish of being able to walk around the city, you meet him. Your doom. Satoru Gojo, a white haired knight whose intentions in your eyes are unkown. And whose presence in your life will change everything, from how you see the world to your way of being.

words: 3,9k

tags: enemies to lovers, blood, eventual smut, Gojo is pretty rude at the beginning, Gojo ooc, betrayal, fantasy, magical creatures, angst, injuries, heavy/strong language, no use of y/n or minimal use of y/n, female protagonist

notes: the next chapter is already in the works, so I might post it next week. Sorry if there are any mistakes.

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

It had been three days since you left the small town where you met Shoko, you were getting further and further north, and snow could be seen on the highest mountains. During those three days, you barely stopped, and if you did, it was to let Nut rest or sleep for a couple of hours. But in that time, you didn't see Satoru rest for a single moment, but it didn't seem to affect him at all.

You hadn't spoken much either, and when you did, it was with threats from both sides, but Satoru couldn't expect anything less. After all, he kidnapped you and was taking you to a place you didn't know.

During those three days, you tried to escape on more than one occasion, but clearly, all had been failed attempts. You knew that Satoru, for some reason, needed you alive, so the fear that existed at the beginning had diminished, although it was still present.

As you and Nut rested, Satoru continued to gaze into the distance. You had truly come further than you had ever planned, and not for the reasons you would have liked.

“We have to keep going.” Satoru said, closing the map he was holding.

“Nut will eventually collapse from exhaustion.” You said, taking one last bite of the apple.

Satoru looked at the horse and then back at you. “We're half a day away from the destination.” He said, as he began packing his things into his bag.

“Don't you care about Nut? How heartless are you?” You got up from the ground and followed him as you walked through the small settlement you had made. “No, it's not that you have a heartless heart... you don't have one at all.” You blurted with an ironic laugh and without any remorse. "You don't give him a name, and now you don't care if your horse falls dead from exhaustion."

Satoru's bag fell to the ground, and in the blink of an eye, the edge of his sword was pointed at you. A drop of cold sweat trickled down your forehead as you clenched your fists to keep from trembling. “Stop playing with fire…”

“You need me alive.” You replied confidently.

“Yes, but no one told me anything about you needing a tongue.” He smiled.

You swallowed and took a step back. “You know, they'll find us soon, I know it… I'm sure of it.”

“And then what?”

“Then I'll have a front row seat to watch you die.”

Satoru put his sword away and touched his temple with a smile. “I didn't know you were so cruel, princess.”

“I'm not, but... you bring out the worst in me, things I didn't even know I could bring out.” You looked at him in disgust.

Satoru said nothing and walked past you, approached Nut, and stroked him gently, whispering something to him. You just stood there, waiting for his voice to echo through the forest of dry leaves and for him to urge you to mount Nut.

And as expected, his voice sounded, and he ordered you to get on. Without looking at him, you climbed onto Nut, but strangely this time, Satoru didn't climb on him, but instead began walking beside the horse.

"Stop.” You said after a few minutes.

Satoru stopped in his tracks and looked at you. “What's wrong?”

“I'm getting off.” You said, moving to dismount.

Satoru released Nut's reins and grabbed your hips, putting you back in your seat. “You were tired, weren't you?”

”Yes, but Nut…”

“He's fine, now shut up.” He said, and pulled Nut back.

You bit your lower lip as you climbed onto the horse and stroked it with your right hand, trying to show it affection.

Normally you wouldn't care what the Satoru you knew now did, but that gesture made you uncomfortable, it made an unpleasant taste settle on your palate and it wasn't the fault of the apple you had eaten, but of his attitude, especially that day.

The sun was bright in the sky when you reached a small town near a lake. The water was crystal clear, so much so that from the shore you could see the bottom, and if you looked at the entire landscape the mountains were perfectly reflected in that serene water, as if it were a perfect mirror.

That place felt magical, not just the lake and the mountains, but as soon as you entered the small town, you felt a warmth envelop you. Its stone streets and houses, smoke rising from their chimneys, indicated life. The voices of merchants shouting their wares, or the murmurs of the locals. Everything made you feel warm.

You got off Nut and gave him a soft caress, thanking him for the effort of bringing you to that place.

“Where are you going?” You heard Satoru’s voice, but it was distant, you were too lost in that place to be listening to him.

Your foot moved on your own as you entered what it seemed like a square with a water fountain in the center and a bell tower behind it, complete with a clock and a bell. Children were running and playing around the square, and on either side of the square were small shops, whose bells, when opened and closed, filled the atmosphere.

You walked looking at each place, but with Satoru’s voice still calling your fake name, if his voice wasn’t present you would almost feel like you were free in that place. A place where no one probably knew who you were.

“Excuse me ma’am?” A voice called you out and a smile crossed your face when three kids, no older than 10 years old were standing in front of you.

“Hello.” You said looking at them.

“Ask her.” The girl said, giving the pink haired boy a slight punch in the arm.

“I will, I will…” He replied, shoving his arm, you tried to hold back your laugh. “Will you like to buy flowers, I’m sure a pretty girl like you loves flowers. It would be 15 each.”

You tried to stay serious, but it was pretty obvious those kids were trying to scam you. “15 each…” You whispered as an idea came to your mind and a big smile appeared on your face. “I love flowers! I’m sure my husband will be happy to buy me some.” You told them and you saw how their eyes started to light up, even the dark haired boy who seemed to be more reserved. “Let’s go to him okay?”

The three kids followed you so obediently towards where Satoru was with Nut. You were still a bit surprised that he let you walk so freely around the place, but probably his eyes were following nonstop.

“Skye!” You said out loudly his fake name.

Satoru looked at you with annoyance. “That’s her husband?” The girl asked. “He seems to hate her.” She was right, but you couldn’t tell her that.

Satoru took a few steps and held your arm. “I told you not to move.” He said, unaware of the three little presences following you.

“Oh honey…” You were about to put the best show. “I just wanted to see this town.” You said with a smile. “Look at the square, is so beautiful, right?” Satoru looked at you, without words, you took all his words from him.

“Ma’am?” The girl spoke again.

“Oh, yes!” You looked at Satoru again. “Skye… buy me flowers, please?”

It was then when Satoru's eyes saw the three kids, who just like you were giving him sad puppy eyes, to get what they wanted. “Flowers?”

“Yes sir! We have the best flowers in the whole valley!” The pink haired boy showed off the flowers.

“They look bad to me.” Satoru responded, making the boy lower the flowers with a sad expression.

“Sa- Skye!” You corrected yourself before calling him by his real name. “Hey…” You kneeled to look at the boy. “They don’t look bad, they look beautiful. What is it called?”

The boy smiled. “Camellias!”

“They are so pretty.” You said with a smile.

“Your wife is saying she likes them, you should buy them, unless you don’t love your wife.” The black haired boy spoke this time.

“Right!” The girl said.

“These brats…” Satoru whispered. “Fine… how much is it?”

“25…” The blacked haired boy spoke again.

Your eyes opened, 25? That’s not what they told you when they approached you, but well you were not paying for them, Satoru was and to see him in the state he was, was enough for you. More than enough, it was pleasant.

“25!?” Satoru exclaimed. “You are kidding me? There is no way.”

“So you don’t love your wife?”

“Of course n…” Satoru couldn’t say out loud he hated you, he needed to keep acting as a married couple.

“Skye?” You played innocent as you looked at him.

Oh you were having so much fun as you saw how Satoru’s face turned slightly red, annoyed, angry, for the whole situation. Satoru knew he needed to act correctly, he couldn’t threaten those kids or else you would be in a tough situation.

“Here…” He gave the money to the kids. “Now get lost.”

You chuckled and turned around to look at the kids who were celebrating. “Thank you, what’s your names?” You asked them.

“I’m Nobara.” The girl said with a smile. “And these are Megumi and Yuji.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m…” Satoru’s were piercing you as you were about to tell them your name. “Selene. Thank you for the flowers, I will cherish them.”

“Thanks for buying them.” Yuji said with a smile.

“Thank you.” This time Megumi talked.

You watched the three of them run away from your spot celebrating their achievement, it was so adorable to see them laughing and jumping around.

“You having fun?” Satoru spoke.

“So much.” You looked at your flowers. “Thank you for the flowers my dear husband.”

“Cut that…” He said, rolling his eyes. “And throw them.”

“No!” You said. “I’m not throwing them.”

“Who cares, they will die.”

“I do, because those kids took care of them and they were so happy after selling them.” You said and you smelled the flowers.

“Scam, they scammed.”

“Oh yeah, they actually told me they cost 15 but I guess they didn’t like you so much.” You mocked while opening one of the bags that was on Nut. “Buying them was so worth it.”

Satoru sighed with annoyance. “Stop playing with fire princess.” He looked at you. “Now come.” He held your arm.

“Where?”

“Just shut up and follow me.” He replied walking to an old shop.

You followed him, not having too many options, the bell of the shop welcomed you and the smell of old books quickly hit your nose. It was a library. Your eyes started scanning the place, it was full of books, from the floor to the ceiling, each corner had books. It was like heaven for those who loved books like you. Soon enough your mind went back to its place and saw Satoru talking with the owner, an old man who walked hunched over and who was much shorter than you.

Satoru was too distracted paying attention to the old man to notice how you started to walk towards the books shelves, attracted by a whisper calling your name.

“I do have it.” The man said. “But as an old man it is my responsibility to advise you not to go there.”

“I will be fine.” Satoru responded.

“You are in such a hurry that you are willing to risk not only your life but also the life of your partner?” The man looked at Satoru and he felt a shiver round through him.

Satoru swallowed feeling nervous, the atmosphere at that old book shop was starting to feel strange. “We… we will be fine, no need to worry about strangers.”

The man laughed silently. “I will always worry about the princess, her path and who she is with.”

Satoru lungs emptied as he heard that, did that old man know you? Did you tell him? No that was not possible, so how?

“I don’t know what you are talking about…” Satoru said as he swallowed hard, moving his Adam apple up and down.

The man held his gaze for a moment before talking again. “Two weeks are left… Will you arrive at Lur before that day hits?”

Satoru’s heart started to beat fastly on his chest, how did he know, how? It couldn´t be you, you didn’t even know where he was taking you, so how did that old man know? Satoru drew his sword from its hilt and pointed it at the man. If he had to kill him there, he would do it without hesitation. He wouldn't let anything thwart his mission.

“Who are you?” Satoru said fiercely.

The man didn’t look at Satoru this time, but behind him. It’s true, you were quiet, too quiet. Satoru turned his head, expecting to find you, but you were not there, and the bell of the entering door didn’t ring, so you were still inside.

His head turned again to face the old man, but Satoru was left alone, the man was gone, you were gone and something strange was happening there that was making his skin crawl with every breath he took.

“Fuck…” He murmured.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The whispers were coming from that old book that was in the shelf in front of you. You only needed to take it and open it.

Your arm stretched out, and with your fingertips you stroked the spine. It was dusty; it had been a long time since anyone had taken that book out of its place. With a trembling hand and a fine drop of sweat running down your forehead, you gripped it firmly and gently pulled it out of its place.

You squinted at the amount of dust that rose from the shelf, which also made you cough a little.

Taking a moment to pause for the cough to calm down and the dust to stop being so bothersome, you looked at the book.

The title was slightly erased, only a few letters could be read, and beneath it there seemed to be an illustration. Like the title, it was hard to see; all you could see was the silhouette of what looked like an animal, with reddish fur. Your heart skipped a beat.

“It can't be…” You whispered, stroking the flap.

“I guess the book will eventually return to where it was always meant to be.” The voice of the old man you'd seen at the entrance made you jump, causing you to clutch the book to your chest.

You hadn't heard any footsteps or anything, but somehow the man was standing next to you, smiling kindly at you. “Excuse me?” You asked, confused.

“Take it. After all, only you can open it.” He said, moving and looking at the padlock on the side.

With your fingers, you gently touched it and then looked up again. “What does that mean? Do you know about the tale? About…”

Your name echoed through the store, and Satoru's hurried footsteps soon caught up with you. You looked over your shoulder at him; he looked worried and somewhat fearful; it was a look you had never seen in him before.

“I finally found you.” He approached you. “Didn't I tell you to stay still?” He grabbed your arms.

“I…” You said, turning your head again to look at the old man, but to your surprise, he was gone. “He left…”

Satoru raised his gaze and followed yours. “Was that old man here? Did he say anything to you?”

“No, just… It doesn’t matter.” You pulled away from his touch and shook your head.

Satoru cleared his throat. You had to leave that place. If Satoru’s intuition was correct, it was best to leave as soon as possible.

Without hesitating, he grabbed your hand and pulled you along. “We’re leaving.”

“Who was that?” You asked aloud, still processing the fact that the old man had disappeared in the blink of an eye, and the words he had said to you.

The tent bell rang again, this time bidding you farewell. The clear sky you had encountered when you arrived at the village had been replaced by dark clouds, indicating that a storm would fall sooner rather than later.

Satoru clicked his tongue at the sky and with your hand still held he headed towards Nut.

“He was probably a sorcerer.” Satoru finally answered the question you had thrown out into the air.

You looked at him, confused. “A sorcerer? Here, in Zerua?”

Sorcerers had been gone for hundreds of years, or at least that’s what most people believed.

“No, there are still som.,” Satoru said as he prepared Nut. You had to leave that place; there was something Satoru wasn’t liking. “Get on.” He demanded.

You looked at him and then at the mount; you had almost forgotten your relationship, the situation you were in. “Can’t we stay? Even if it’s just tonight…”

“No.” Satoru was blunt and sharp. You were leaving, and there was no turning back.

You put the book in one of Nut’s bags and, somewhat angrily, climbed on. This time Satoru climbed on with you, too, and, mounted on Nut, you began to walk.

Satoru covered you with the hood, probably to keep anyone from seeing your red hair, but it didn't matter too much, since the streets had emptied due to the coming storm that had gathered.

The stone streets soon turned into dirt, and the houses became fewer and fewer. Little by little, you were moving away from that place that had provided a moment of calm in your busy life.

“What's the book you've kept?” Satoru spoke.

“It's nothing... it's... an old children's book…” You lied, still unsure if that book was the one your mother had told you about or not. But somehow, it was something that connected to you, or so the man had implied. “How do you know that sorcerers didn't disappear?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

Satoru remained silent, as if pondering his answer. ”When you're not locked away in a castle all your life, you get to see the world and see people.” He said in a mocking tone. “And that's how you realize it's not all true.”

You pressed your lips together tightly, almost forming a thin line, and looked at him. “What else isn't true? And there were reasons not to leave.”

“Really? And what were they?” He said with a half smile.

“You don't care.” You looked straight ahead.

Satoru laughed softly; you could feel his chest moving against your back; you were really close. “But you know what else isn't true?” He spoke. “That the princess of Zerua was a spoiled little princess.”

“You thought it was that?” You asked.

“After all, only I did. Everyone believed it.” He said against your ear. “After all, you've always been a rumor. No one knew anything about you, what you were like, or anything. And bad rumors always spread faster.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because people always prefer to see the bad things in others.” Satoru replied. “Even if they're lies.”

You looked at him and saw his blue eyes fixed on yours. You quickly looked away as your cheeks felt hot. Satoru was acting strange; he'd been acting strange since you'd woken up, and that run-in with the old man from the bookstore hadn't helped at all.

“Well… probably every rumor running around about you right now it’s true.” You said trying to mock him.

“Maybe they are saying that the princess ran away with her knight, because that was the only way for them to be together.” You could sense his mocking tone but still you fell for it.

“That would never happen!” You punch him.

“You sure, weren’t you in love with me?”

“What?!” You said out loud. “No! Never!”

Satoru chuckled, he knew deep inside that he was relaxing, he was letting his guard down with this type of conversations, but this way it was easier to go on with the mission. Yeah the mission.

“It’s raining…” You said as you looked up.

“Yeah… it seems like a storm will soon break. Let’s go Nut.” Satoru said and Nut started to walk faster. You smiled as it hit you that Satoru called him Nut.

Finally, the storm broke. You didn't know where you were going, but Satoru had no plans to stop. Even though you were completely soaked, you kept going north. Your heart was racing faster and faster; you were further from home, and if you continued this process, there would come a point where you could cross the border.

If that happened, then what would happen to you? You still had no idea where Satoru was taking you, and even though today had been comfortable and relaxed, you couldn't be blinded by the fact that the man behind you had caused an explosion in the castle and kidnapped you. Not only that, he had tricked you for months, he had used you. And now he was taking you to who knows where.

You had been traveling for about two hours when the rain stopped, and the rays of sunlight began to timidly emerge between the clouds. Your eyes looked ahead, searching for any trace of where you might be. Even though you had never left the castle, you had looked at the maps of Zerua hundreds of times, so many places you knew by heart.

Based on the route you'd taken, you assumed you were in the northeast, near the fortified city of Bler. From what you'd read, Bler had some of the best cuisine in the kingdom and was also close to the coast. Being so far north, there were times when snow covered the sand, something unusual to see. But something you wished you could see and experience.

But your heart sank when you saw where you were headed. You felt a terrible chill run through you and an overwhelming urge to vomit.

“The Blue Forest?” You said out loudly.

“So you know about it?” Satoru said as he guided Nut.

“Of course I know…” You looked at him. “We can not go there… We will both die and if we don't, we will after crossing it.”

You knew about the Blue Forest, everyone in Zerua knew. Everyone knew to never cross the Blue Forest, because if you did, you were not going back home.

Satoru seemed to ignore your words, his gaze was focused on the path before you. You swallowed as you realized that he was not going to change his mind, that you were going to be entering that forest and not return home.

“Satoru please!” You moved in the horse but Satoru’s arms held you thighly.

“Stop moving!” He firmly said.

“Let’s not go there, please…”

Satoru looked at you, without looking away. “No…” He whispered and Nut started moving.

You thrashed in his arms, but Satoru was stronger, and you could barely move in your seat. Little by little, the extremely thick fog began to surround you, the orange light of the sun disappeared, and visibility became zero.

— if you want to be tagged, comment. Thank you for reading.

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[chrystal-ink]

Shadow x GN Reader NSFW head cannons

minors do not interact

This is going to be the last of NSFW things I’m going to be doing for a little bit I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of it recently and I want to get back to my comfort / domestic fluff stuff for now so I’m putting the breaks on NSFW content for a few weeks just till I can clear my drafts. I’ll most likely add on as I get more ideas same with all my other head cannons

Shadow usually likes to dominate in bed watching how you give into his touch beneath him

He will let you dominate every once in a while depending on how into it you are

Making sure you’re satisfied is is main goal whenever you two go at it however that gets done is fine by him

Shadow doesn’t have too many kinks he’ll try out whatever you’re into but he’ll always be sure to let you know weather it’s for him or not

This man cannot role play for shit, he doesn’t fully understand why you two would be pretending to be different people but he does enjoy seeing you in various skimpy outfits

If he’s at work and he’s missing your touch he’ll text you telling you to stretch before he gets home because he doesn’t want you to pull anything when he arrives

If you have any lingerie, no you don’t, not after Shadow gets to it that man will rip it apart like it was wet toilet paper in order to get to you so only wear your favorite pieces on his gentle days

Shadow prefers love making overall, taking his time to caress and appreciate your body and everything you do for him

Shadow has a breeding kink like you wouldn’t believe, he wants to get you pregnant so bad it’s ridiculous he of course wants you to want kids before he actually gets you pregnant so he is okay with you taking birth control

He fully realized his breeding kink after the two of you had a particularly good session and you jokingly said “I think you got me pregnant with that one” he was ready to go for another round immediately.

If he sees a pregnancy test box in your medicine cabinet he will start to get all hot and bothered he’ll make sure you’ll need it soon.

Shadow enjoys cock warming nothing feels better to him than sitting inside you after he has pleased you being in such close proximity however he often gets too swept up in aftercare to remember to do it

If you have sex while shadow is in his super form you will get pregnant his super form can defeat anything birth control included (that’s how you got nova and her twin)

[earthtoharlow]

Hit The Lights

3rd installment of the Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights & Don’t Like The Lights first to understand

series masterlist

5. Crazy Beautiful Life

Jack rubbed the sleep from his eyes, watching as Maryse disappeared into the bathroom. He glanced at the clock—6 a.m. The twins’ birthday party wasn’t until noon, and he knew for a fact they wouldn’t be up for another couple of hours. The baby monitor was completely silent.

Still groggy, he pushed himself up on his elbows as she came back out, already pulling her hair into a ponytail. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

She sighed, grabbing a pair of leggings from the dresser. “I have to get ready for the party. There’s so much to do.”

He frowned. “Babe, it’s six in the morning.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing.” He reached for her hand, tugging her back onto the bed. “The party’s not until noon. The twins are still asleep. You should be too.”

She sighed, leaning over him, and for a moment, he thought she was actually listening. She cupped his face and pressed a slow, deep kiss to his lips, making him hum in satisfaction. He relaxed against the pillows, already picturing her crawling back under the covers with him.

Then, just as quickly as she leaned in, she pulled away, smirking. “Nice try.”

Before he could protest, she straightened up and grabbed her phone, already heading out of the bedroom.

Jack groaned, flopping back against the pillows. “You’re lucky I love you,” he called after her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she teased from down the hall. “Now go back to sleep!”

He lay there for a few more minutes, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself back to sleep. But it was useless. He never liked sleeping without her, and the bed felt too empty without her warmth next to him. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before finally pushing himself up. If she was up, he might as well be too—especially if she was stressing about today.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants, he padded into the kitchen, where he found her already organizing decorations, mumbling to herself as she checked over her list. She had her back to him, completely lost in her own world, until he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder.

She startled for a second before relaxing against him. “I thought I told you to go back to sleep,” she murmured.

“And I thought you were gonna come back to bed,” he shot back. “But here we are.”

Maryse sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. “There’s so much to do, and I just want everything to be perfect.”

“It’s gonna be perfect,” he assured her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And you’re not doing all of this by yourself. What do you need me to do?”

She turned to face him fully, looking up at him with a soft expression. “You don’t have to, babe. I got it.”

He gave her a look. “That wasn’t the question.”

She let out a breath, studying him for a moment before finally handing him a stack of decorations. “Alright, you can start with these.”

He took them without hesitation, giving her another quick kiss before getting to work. If she was going to be up at the crack of dawn making sure their babies had the best birthday ever, then he was going to be right there with her.

Hours later the twins were finally awake and as Maryse took the twins to get them dressed for their big day, she turned to Jack, narrowing her eyes playfully. “Can I trust you and Urban to go pick up the cake?”

Jack immediately stood at attention, giving her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

She rolled her eyes, smirking. “I’m serious.”

“I got this, babe. It’s just a cake,” he said, grabbing the keys as Urban chuckled beside him.

Little did they know, it wouldn’t be just a cake.

When they arrived at the bakery, Jack immediately noticed something was off. The cake that was waiting for them looked nothing like what Maryse had ordered. Instead of the cute, pastel-themed two-tier cake with the twins’ names and little animals, there was a bright, over-the-top superhero-themed cake that had absolutely nothing to do with their babies’ birthday.

Urban let out a slow whistle. “Man… this ain’t it.”

Jack’s jaw clenched as he leaned over the counter. “This is not the cake we ordered.”

The worker, looking slightly frazzled, flipped through the order list. “Oh… um, it looks like there was a mix-up. Your cake must’ve gone to someone else.”

“Someone else?” Jack repeated, running a hand down his face. “How long will it take to make another one?”

The worker winced. “A few hours, at least.”

Urban groaned. “We do not have a few hours, man. My best friend’s girl is gonna kill both of us.”

Jack took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “We gotta figure something out.”

Without wasting another second, they stormed out of the bakery and jumped back in the car. “Alright, new plan,” Jack said, gripping the steering wheel. “We gotta find another bakery, now.”

Urban pulled out his phone, searching frantically. “Man, I hope you know how to talk your way into a last-minute cake order, ‘cause this is bad.”

Jack exhaled sharply, already feeling the stress settle in. “I’m not coming back empty-handed. Let’s go.”

They sped off, hoping to fix this disaster before Maryse found out—and definitely before she called to check in.

***

Maryse glanced around as more guests started to arrive, checking her watch before scanning the backyard. The decorations were perfect, the kids were dressed and ready, and everything was going smoothly—except for one problem. Jack and Urban were still nowhere to be found.

Her stomach twisted as she pulled out her phone and dialed Jack’s number. He should’ve been back by now.

Meanwhile, at a different bakery across town, Jack stood at the counter, practically begging the baker to help him. “Look, I know this is last minute, but we just need a two-tier cake, pastel colors, and if you could just write ‘London & Noah’ on it, I swear I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

The baker sighed, rubbing her temples. “I can do that, but it’ll take me about twenty minutes.”

Just as Jack felt a small bit of relief, happy that they had pre-made cakes, his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He looked down, seeing Maryse’s name flash across the screen.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Urban smirked beside him. “Yeah, you better answer that before she really starts worrying.”

Jack took a deep breath, forcing himself to sound calm as he answered. “Hey, baby.”

“Where are you? Our friends and family are here, and the kids keep asking for you,” Maryse said, her voice laced with concern. He could hear London say “DaDa” into the phone.

Jack winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “We made a pit stop, but we’re on our way back now.”

Maryse narrowed her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. “A pit stop?”

“Yep. Nothing to worry about,” he assured her, trying to keep his voice smooth. “We’ll be there soon.”

Maryse exhaled slowly, trying to push down her nerves. “You better be.”

She hung up, still feeling uneasy. Something was up.

Back at the bakery, Urban whistled. “Man, she knows something’s up.”

Jack groaned. “I know. Let’s just get this cake and get the hell outta here before I have to explain why her perfectly planned party almost didn’t have one.”

***

Jack and Urban rushed through the front door, slightly out of breath, carefully carrying the cake between them. It wasn’t the exact one Maryse had ordered, but considering the time crunch, it looked pretty damn good.

As soon as they stepped inside, they were met with The Look—Maryse stood near the dining table, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, her eyes flickering between the two of them and the cake.

“You made a pit stop, huh?” she said, unimpressed.

Jack and Urban exchanged a quick glance before flashing matching innocent smiles.

“Yep,” Jack said, setting the cake down. “But look! Cake’s here. Crisis averted. We’re all good.”

Maryse stepped forward, inspecting it carefully. She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not the one I ordered.”

He put his hands on her waist, pulling her in slightly. “I know, baby, but considering what we were working with? This one turned out pretty great.”

Urban nodded. “Honestly, we saved the day.”

Maryse rolled her eyes, but the stress in her shoulders eased. The kids wouldn’t care—it was still cake. And as much as she wanted to stay mad, they had come through in the end.

“Fine,” she said, poking Jack’s chest. “But next time, I’m picking up the cake myself.”

Jack grinned, kissing her cheek. “Deal.”

Their backyard had been completely transformed into a toddler’s paradise. The huge ball pit in the center was an instant hit, with kids diving in and laughing, while the adults stood around, watching with amusement. The twins were having the time of their lives, and even Jack couldn’t resist jumping in with them, disappearing into the sea of colorful balls before popping up and making London and Noah giggle.

Maryse stood by, hands on her hips, shaking her head. “You’re worse than the kids,” she called out to him, but she couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

When it was finally time for the cake, she had to physically pull Jack and the twins out of the ball pit. “Come on, birthday babies!” she laughed, carrying London while Jack carried Noah, both of them squirming in their arms, still wanting to play.

As everyone gathered around and started singing Happy Birthday, London looked around at all the faces, completely confused by what was happening. She blinked up at Maryse like, Why is everyone staring at me and making noise? Meanwhile, Noah’s little face started scrunching up like he was about to cry—until he saw the cake being placed in front of them.

His eyes went wide, and suddenly, the song didn’t matter anymore. With one determined reach, he smacked his tiny hand right into the frosting, making everyone laugh.

Jack grinned, nudging Maryse. “That’s my boy.”

She shook her head, laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Just wait until he smears it all over you.”

And just like that, Noah lifted his frosting-covered hand and placed it right on Jack’s cheek.

The backyard erupted with laughter as Jack groaned, wiping his face. “Okay, little man, you got me!”

London, watching her brother, finally decided she wanted in on the fun. She clapped her hands together, squishing the frosting between her fingers, before reaching for Maryse.

Maryse gasped, laughing. “Oh, no, baby girl—not the dress!”

But it was too late. Their twins’ first birthday had officially turned into a full-on cake smash, and neither parent could even be mad about it.

Later that night, Maryse leaned against the doorframe, her heart full as she watched their babies sleep. London was still in her little dress, now covered in dried cake, while Noah had somehow lost his shirt, only his pants remaining. Their room was a mess—balloons in the corner, toys scattered everywhere—but none of that mattered right now. They’d clean up tomorrow.

She turned to Jack, who hadn’t taken his eyes off them. His face was softer than usual, the weight of the moment settling in. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were glossy, and she knew he was feeling everything she was.

“The last two days have been amazing,” he said quietly, voice thick with emotion. “And it’s all because of you.”

She reached for his hand, squeezing it. “It’s because of us.”

He shook his head slightly, as if trying to hold himself together. “I mean it. You gave me this life. Our life. And I can never thank you enough for that.”

Her throat tightened at his words. She stepped closer, resting a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her palm. “You don’t have to thank me,” she whispered. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and so are they.”

He exhaled, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “I still can’t believe we have two one-year-olds.”

“Me neither,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at her. “I love you.”

She smiled, brushing a tear off his cheek before it could fall. “I love you more.”

They stood there for a while longer, just holding each other, watching their babies sleep, taking in the beautiful, messy, exhausting, perfect life they had built together.

***

Jack and Maryse have one year olds now! 🥹 I could cryyyyy let me know what you think 🫶

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